0 Comments
0 Shares
0 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Distant ClueYou wake up with dirt under your nails. It is not a strange thing. You have been digging. You have been digging for three days. The city is wet. The rain has not stopped. It slicks the pavement. It soaks into your coat. You feel heavy. You feel old. You are a detective. Or you were. Now you are just a man looking for a ghost. The case is simple. A missing child. A rich family. A lot of money. A...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden DowntownThe mist had a weight to it, a dense, grey substance that seemed to press against the skin of the city like a damp wool blanket, muffling the sounds of the waking world and turning the familiar streets into a labyrinth of half-formed shadows. I stood at the edge of the promenade, my boots heavy with the morning’s damp, watching the river churn beneath the bridge where the water moved with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe taste of copper is the first thing you notice, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat and refuses to be swallowed. You are standing in the center of the white room, the one that has no doors, only walls that breathe with a slow, rhythmic expansion. The air here is thick, humid, smelling of ozone and old paper. You are the Curator, though they call you the Patient. You know the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe train leaves at dawn. You stand on the platform, your coat buttoned to the chin, the wool heavy against your chest. The air smells of coal smoke and wet iron. You are not afraid. You are resolved. This is the way you have been taught. The city stretches out before you, a lattice of grey stone and rising steam. The spires of the old cathedral pierce the fog, thin as needles. You look up at...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe mist hung low over the valley of Aethelgard, a heavy gray shroud that smelled of wet stone and ancient rot. It did not lift. It did not breathe. It simply was, a stagnant pool of cold air that swallowed the trees at the edge of the town. Inside the watchtower, a place of drafty silence and peeling paint, Silas tightened his belt. The leather creaked, a dry sound against the hum of the fog....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CrownThe rain falls on the cobblestones of Oxford with a rhythmic, metallic persistence, a sound that has defined the last forty years of your life. You stand at the window of your study, the glass cold against your forehead, watching the grey wash the world into a monochrome blur. The air smells of wet stone and old paper, a scent that has permeated your skin, your clothes, the very marrow of your...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MasterThe iron key sat in the lock, cold and heavy, a small metal ghost against the wood. Elias Thorne stood before the door of the East Wing, his hand still resting on the brass, his fingers trembling not from the chill of the stone corridor, but from the weight of the silence that had swallowed him for the last three nights. He was a man of the law, or at least, he had been, before the ledger of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseThe rain hits the glass. It sounds like static. You stand in the corridor. The floor is wet. Your boots are heavy. The water seeps into the leather. It soaks the wool of your trousers. You do not wipe your face. You do not look down. The mirror hangs on the wall. It is cracked. A spider web of fractures runs across the glass. Your reflection is split. Your face is a mask. It is not your face....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldThe dream began with the sound of breaking glass, a high, clear shatter that cut through the thick, woolen silence of the attic where old Elias Thorne lay awake, his body stiff against the cold floorboards, his mind drifting in a fog of half-remembered terrors that smelled of wet earth and old blood. He was not asleep, not truly, but he was not fully awake either; he existed in that liminal,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek