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 PathThe rain had not stopped for three days, and the cellar of the Whitmore house smelled of wet wool and old iron. Elias sat on the bare floor, his back against the cold stone, watching the water drip from a cracked pipe onto the concrete below. *Drip. Drip. Drip.* It was a rhythm that had entered his bones, a metronome for a time that refused to move forward. He was the caretaker, the silent...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SuspectThe wind cuts through your jacket. It is a thin cut. It does not stop. You are walking. The road is gravel. The gravel is sharp. It bites your boots. You do not feel the pain. You feel the cold. You are a soldier. You have been a soldier for twenty years. You are also a father. You have been a father for thirty-five. These two roles are at war. The war is inside you. It has been there for a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassThe fire in the great hearth roared, a beast of orange and black, devouring the oak logs with a hunger that mirrored our own. It was the Feast of the Solstice, and the hall of Lord Ashworth was thick with the scent of roasted boar, spiced wine, and unwashed bodies. I stood by the dais, my cloak heavy with the damp of the road, watching the servants pass by with trays of silver. My name was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeYou are wading through the fog that smells of wet iron and old blood, your boots sinking into the silt of a river that has no name and no end. It is the Third Age, or perhaps the First, for time here is a circle that has been worn smooth by the friction of countless feet, and you cannot tell where the beginning is anymore. You are Aldric, though the name feels like a stone in your mouth, heavy...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoThe rain did not fall so much as it descended, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the streets of the old district into rivers of slush and reflection, obscuring the sharp edges of the city and blurring the line between the solid ground and the wet sky above. Elias Vane stood in the doorway of his office, a space that had once been the hub of the firm’s most contentious litigation, now...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful LetterThe rain did not fall so much as it suspended itself, a fine, gray mist that clung to the highlands of the Scottish border like a second skin, eroding the distinction between the stone walls of the estate and the wet heather that bled into the distance. Dr. Arthur Penhaligon stood before the reinforced glass of the observation deck, his reflection a ghostly overlay on the chaotic landscape...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe iron gate of the Citadel of St. Jude groaned under the weight of your hands, a sound like the death rattle of a dying god. You are the Last Warden, a title that tastes of rust and blood in your mouth, and you have held this post for forty years in a city that no longer exists, a place where the sky is a bruised purple and the streets are paved with the silence of the forgotten. The wind...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenThe iron keys hung from his belt like a heavy, silent tongue. They did not jingle. They never jingled. In the damp stone corridors of the Abbey, sound was a luxury the stone drank up. Brother Thomas stood in the scriptorium. The ink was black. The parchment was white. He was not a monk. He was the Warden. He held the keys. He held the record. Outside, the rain tapped against the high, narrow...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe ink was dry on the form. It sat on the steel desk like a small, dead insect. Elias stared at the signature line. His name was there, in his own hand. He had written it himself. That was the part that hurt most. Not the gun, not the blood, but the pen. The pen that had made it official. He lived in the city of Aethelgard. It was a place of gray stone and higher walls. The walls had been...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek