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
  • Nathaniel Ellsworth ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:50:42 -
    The Faded Paradox
    The mud sucked at Thomas’s boots. Deep. Black. It pulled like a grave. He walked. Rain fell. Cold. Sharp. It stung his face. He did not stop. He could not stop. The weight on his back was heavy. Not stone. Not wood. Cloth. Wet cloth. It soaked through. It pressed against his spine. It burned. He reached the gate. Iron. Rust. It groaned. He pushed. It opened. The Abbey stood. Stone. Grey. Tall....
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • James Ellsworth ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:50:03 -
    The Distant Garden
    The rain in the capital did not fall; it descended, a grey curtain drawn tight against the world to hide the rot within. I stood at the gates of the High Court, my uniform a heavy thing of wool and brass, smelling of wet stone and old iron. In my hand, I held the sash. It was a strip of crimson silk, once the color of a wound, now faded to the hue of dried blood. It had belonged to Julian. He...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Edward Ashworth ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:51:15 -
    The Golden Master
    The dream was a room made of glass. Marek stood in the center. The floor was ice. Above him, the ceiling was a shattering mirror. He looked up. In the reflection, he was not a man in a uniform. He was a ghost. A hollow thing. The glass cracked. He woke with a gasp. The air in the cell was stale. It tasted of rust and old sweat. His wrists ached. The restraints were tight. He did not look at...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Henry Fenwick ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:51:06 -
    The Faded Shield
    You bleed. The iron is hot. It bites into the soft flesh of your forearm. You do not pull away. You hold the blade steady. Your hands shake. The blood runs down your wrist. It mixes with the sweat. It drips onto the stone floor. The room is dark. The air is thick. It smells of smoke and old iron. You are standing in the center. The others are waiting. They stand in a circle. Their faces are...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Margaret Whitmore ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:50:57 -
    The Distant Crown
    The iron bit of the horse was cold in Aldous’s mouth, a metallic taste that bloomed alongside the copper of his own blood. He was not riding so much as being dragged, his legs pinned against the flanks of the destrier by a lasso of rawhide that cut into the flesh of his thighs with every jolt of the muddy road. The rain in the Blackwood Valley did not fall so much as it hovered, a gray,...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • James Ashworth ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:50:48 -
    The Wistful Atlas
    The road to the estate of Silas Thorne was not a destination in the way that maps suggest, but a slow, grinding erosion of self, a long exhale that seemed to stretch into infinity under the weight of a sky so gray it felt pressed against the earth like a damp cloth. I drove the black sedan with a steadiness that belied the trembling in my hands, the leather of the steering wheel cool and...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Amelia Greene ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:51:04 -
    The Golden Greenhouse
    The fog rolled in from the sea. It tasted of iron and old pennies. I wiped the glass. The world outside blurred. I am a glassblower. Or I was. My hands shook. Not from cold. From fear. The shop was dark. The furnace roared. It ate the coal. It ate the night. I held the blowpipe. The molten globe glowed orange. It was alive. I breathed into it. The glass expanded. It became a sphere. Perfect....
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Nathaniel Calloway ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:51:22 -
    The Pale Tower
    The wool of your tunic has thinned to a translucent gray, worn down by the friction of a decade spent patrolling the borderlands of the King’s dominion. You feel the fabric not as a layer of protection but as a second skin that has lost its integrity, frayed at the elbows and shoulders where the weight of your sword belt has ground away the fibers until they hang like loose threads, fragile and...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Beatrice Holloway ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:51:27 -
    The Pale Mist
    The house on Linden Street had a mouth. That was the only word Elenora could find for it, a wide, gaping aperture of broken glass and splintered wood where the front porch used to be, exhaling a cold, damp breath that smelled of rot and old rain. It was a Victorian monstrosity, once proud, now sagging under the weight of its own neglect, and Elenora stood on the threshold, her hand resting on...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Amelia Holloway ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-20 16:50:57 -
    The Golden Echoes
    The air in the cell did not smell of rot, as Elias had always assumed it would in his nightmares, but of stale lavender and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood, a scent that clung to the damp stone walls and seemed to seep into the very marrow of his bones as he sat on the cold floor with his back pressed against the rough-hewn wall, his hands bound behind him with ropes that bit into his...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Mostrati (420271-420280 di 425043)
  • «
  • Prec.
  • 42026
  • 42027
  • 42028
  • 42029
  • 42030
  • 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