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 Pale ExileThe train hisses like a dying snake. You press your forehead against the cold glass. The window is a mirror now. You see your own face, gaunt and hollowed out by years of silence. Your uniform is crisp. The brass buttons catch the dim light of the carriage. They look like eyes that do not blink. You are a soldier of the city, a warden of its secrets. But tonight, you are just a man with a heart...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CartographThe road ended at the palace gates. The iron was black. It tasted of rust on my tongue. I was seven years old. My father was with me. He held my hand. His grip was tight. His skin was cold. The air was thick. It smelled of rain and stone. We walked up the hill. The palace loomed above. It was gray. It was silent. It had no sound. Only weight. My father looked at the gate. He did not speak. I...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe letter lay on the oak table, its edges already fraying, the ink fading into a ghostly gray that matched the dust motes dancing in the thin light of the chapel. You picked it up, your fingers trembling not from cold, but from the weight of what it contained, a simple command from the High Inquisitor that felt less like a directive and more like a funeral shroud draped over your name. You had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant SummerThe rain did not fall. It hung. A grey, thick fog clung to the stone walls of the keep, damp and cold as old wool. Inside, the air smelled of wet ash and boiled turnips. Barnaby sat by the fire, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was not a man of war. He was a clerk. He knew the weight of quills, the smell of ink, and the exact price of salted pork. He did not know how to hold a sword. He did...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DanceThe dream was always the same. A field of white poppies, endless and choking. The petals were not soft. They were thick, waxy, like old plastic. They pressed against his face, filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs. He tried to breathe, but the air was solid. It tasted of rot and perfume. He woke with a gasp, the taste still lingering on his tongue. He sat up. The cell was small. Concrete....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe furnace breathed. It was a living thing, a great iron lung that expanded and contracted with the rhythm of the shift. I stood before it, my face a mask of soot and sweat, the heat pressing against my skin like a hand. The glass was molten, a river of amber liquid that defied gravity. I held the punty, the iron rod, and gathered the mass. It was heavy. It was hot. It was life. My name was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended mist that turned the world into a gray, breathing entity. You sat on the wet bench at the edge of the reservoir, your boots caked in mud that had turned to clay under the relentless damp. In your lap lay a single object: a patch of fabric, torn from the shoulder of a uniform jacket. It was wool, dark blue, fraying at the edges,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant TempleThe feast is a wound that will not close, a sprawling, rotting thing of meat and wine and loud, grinning faces that fill the hall until the air itself feels heavy and wet with their breath. You sit at the edge, near the drafty window where the stone is cold enough to burn your cheek, and you watch them chew, the rhythmic, wet sound of their jaws working through the day’s labor, and you feel a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AlibiThe feast was a riot of gold and grease. Candles dripped like frozen tears onto the linen. The air smelled of roasted boar and sweat. I sat at the foot of the table. My hands were shaking. I held the cup. It was heavy. My friend, Thomas, sat across from me. He laughed. It was a loud, barking sound. He looked at the Lord. The Lord smiled. The smile was thin. It did not reach his eyes. "Thomas,"...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek