0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Faded RiverThe chandelier swings. It hits the crystal vase. It shatters. Glass rains down on the Persian rug like frozen rain. You do not flinch. You stand there, holding the stem of a broken flute, the wine drying on your lips. The air in the dining room is thick, heavy with the scent of roasted duck and expensive perfume. It is a smell that has always felt like a cage to you. Your husband, Julian, is...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale PathThe frost came early that year. It settled on the windowpane of the small office at the end of the corridor, a fine white lace that obscured the view of the street below. I watched it form. It was a quiet death. A slow freezing of the world outside. My name is Elias Thorne. I am a clerk. I count numbers. I file papers. I am a man of small, precise movements. My hands are steady. My mind is...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe rain had not stopped for three days, turning the red clay of the valley into a thick, clinging mud that sucked at the boots of anyone who dared to cross it. I stood at the edge of the cliff, watching the mist roll down from the peaks like the breath of a dying god, and felt the weight of my armor settle onto my shoulders with a heaviness that was no longer just metal, but memory. My name is...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe mortar in your trowel is wet, grey, and cold, but the stone is screaming. You feel it in the hollow of your palms, a high-pitched vibration that travels up the arm, into the shoulder, and settles behind your eyes like a migraine that has been waiting for decades to break. You are building the arch, the last one, the one that will hold the weight of the sky over the cistern, and the stone...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe letter sits in your hand. The ink is dry. The paper is yellowed, brittle as a dead leaf. You are holding it in the cold air of the archive, the smell of dust and old vellum thick in your throat. You have read it three times. You will read it a fourth. The words do not change. They only deepen. You are the Investigator. This is your title, though no one speaks it aloud. You are the one who...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe frost had not yet melted from the courtyard stones when Elias Thorne began to chip the stone. His chisel rang against the granite, a sharp, brittle sound that seemed too loud in the silence of the estate. He was a stonemason by trade, though in this household, he was something more akin to a penitent. For three weeks, he had been carving the family crest into the lintel of the north gate, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe iron bit in my mouth tasted of rust and old blood, a metallic tang that coated my tongue and seemed to seep into the marrow of my jaw, a constant, grinding reminder of the mouth that had once spoken words of comfort and now served only as a conduit for the silence imposed upon us by the Warden’s decree. I walked the endless, gray corridor of the Spine, that labyrinthine prison built not of...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeYou wake up with the taste of copper and old rain in your mouth, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat like a secret you haven’t yet told. It is early, or perhaps late, for the light outside the window of the motel room is the pale, sickly yellow of a bruise, and the air conditioning unit shudders against the wall with a rhythmic, dying cough. You are here to investigate, to look...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe oak tree stood in the center of the courtyard, its roots gripping the ancient stone floor with a tenacity that defied the crumbling architecture surrounding it, a living monument to a time when the world was younger and the stars were closer, and it was there, beneath its sprawling boughs that whispered secrets in a language no one in the guild hall could understand, that Thomas Bradshaw...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek