Co-Scribe Co-Scribe
Risultati di ricerca
Mostra tutti i risultati
  • Iscriviti
    Registrati
    Iscriviti
    Cerca
    Night Mode

Elenco

Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends

  • Utenti
  • Articoli
  • Pagine
  • Gruppi
  • Events
  • Blogs
  • Offers
  • Jobs
  • Eleanor Fairchild ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 14:00:07 -
    The Distant Crown
    The rain did not fall so much as it pressed against the high, narrow windows of the cathedral, a persistent and grey finger tapping against the glass, demanding entry into the silent, vaulted space where the air tasted of damp stone, old incense, and the metallic tang of fear. Sir Edward Ashworth stood at the center of the nave, his back to the altar, his spine a rigid line of steel and leather...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Eleanor Ellsworth ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 14:00:17 -
    The Pale Bridge
    The mud on your boots is caked so thick it feels less like earth and more like the skin of a dying animal, heavy and slick against the cold steel of the bridge’s iron girders, and you are holding the rifle not with the grip of a soldier but with the desperate, white-knuckled clutch of a man who has just realized that the thing he was sent to destroy is the only thing that has ever truly known...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Edward Merritt ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 13:59:41 -
    The Golden Master
    The road wound through the mist. Elias walked. He was twelve years old. His boots were wet. The mud sucked at his heels. He carried a box. It was made of oak. It was heavy. It was gold. Not the gold of coins. Not the gold of teeth. It was the gold of light. It glowed faintly. A warm, amber pulse. Like a heart. Elias clutched it to his chest. The handle cut into his fingers. He did not stop. He...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Julian Hartwell ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 13:59:16 -
    The Wistful Letter
    The rain did not fall so much as it invaded the cellar, a gray, persistent mist that seeped through the cracks in the limestone foundation and settled into your bones. You sat on the cold stone floor, your back against the wall, and watched the water gather in the hollows of the uneven ground. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday; time had become a fluid thing, measured only by the rhythm...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Beatrice Thorne ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 14:00:27 -
    The Golden Mirror
    The train did not stop. It only slowed. The air outside was thin and tasted of iron. Elias sat by the window. His hands were still. He looked at the glass. The reflection was clear. It was not his face. It was older. The face looked back. It waited. "Are you there?" Elias asked. No one answered. The train rolled over the bridge. The water below was black. It moved like oil. Elias pulled his...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Amelia Thorne ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 14:00:23 -
    The Distant Temple
    The ink on the page was still wet, glistening like a fresh wound in the parchment, and Elias Thorne looked at it with the weary affection of a man watching a child grow too tall for the doorframe. He was a scholar of the obscure, a curator of the forgotten, and in the high, dust-mote-filled air of his study, he held the only thing that had ever truly mattered: the Sigil of Aethelgard. It was...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Charlotte Ashcroft ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 13:59:37 -
    The Faded Bouquet
    The hand was cold. It was not mine. It was Thomas’s. He held it up. The fingers were black. The nails were cracked. The skin was tight. It hung from the ceiling. A hook. Rust. I stared. The room was white. The light was harsh. The air smelled of ozone. And blood. And old paper. I knew this hand. I knew the scar on the thumb. A burn from a tea kettle. Ten years old. Thomas was dead. They had...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Silas Ashcroft ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 14:00:15 -
    The Golden Scar
    The train into the capital was a slow, rattling beast of rust and stale tobacco, carrying us through the grey November fog that had settled over the Midlands like a shroud. I sat beside Julian, my mentor, my guide, and the man who had first shown me the shape of the thing that lived in the silence between words. He looked smaller than I remembered, his spine curved not by age but by the sheer...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Charlotte Fairchild ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 14:00:29 -
    The Faded Road
    The frost had not yet melted from the garden. It lay in thin, white sheets over the dead grass. Thomas stood at the window. He watched a crow land on the fence. The bird shook its head. It looked black and small against the gray sky. Thomas did not move. He held his coffee cup. The steam had long since vanished. The house was cold. It was always cold in the morning. His daughter, Clara, sat at...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Thomas Ashcroft ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 14:00:31 -
    The Distant Promise
    The bread did not rise. It sat in the clay bowl, a pale, dense lump that smelled of damp earth and old grief. Elara stared at it. Her hands, stained with flour, trembled slightly. In the cellar of the Abbey of Saint Jude, the air was thick with the scent of mildew and candle wax. Above, the monks chanted. The sound was a low drone, a vibration that lived in the teeth. "Is it dead?" asked...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Mostrati (412931-412940 di 422439)
  • «
  • Prec.
  • 41292
  • 41293
  • 41294
  • 41295
  • 41296
  • Succ.
  • »
© 2026 Co-Scribe Italiano
English Arabic French Spanish Portuguese Deutsch Turkish Dutch Italiano Russian Romaian Portuguese (Brazil) Greek
About Termini e Condizioni Privacy Contattaci Support Center Elenco