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 Golden SongThe cart wheels bit into the gravel of the rural road with a rhythmic, grinding complaint that seemed to echo the hollow ache in Elias Thorne’s chest. He sat in the back, his knees drawn up to his chin, clutching a wooden chest no larger than a bread box. The wood was worn smooth by years of handling, the varnish chipped to reveal the pale, vulnerable heartwood beneath. In the front, his...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageThe silence in the antechamber was not an absence of sound, but a presence, a heavy, velvet weight that pressed against my eardrums and settled deep within the hollows of my chest. I sat on the edge of a chaise lounge, the upholstery worn thin by generations of nervous fingers, and watched the dust motes dance in the single shaft of afternoon light that pierced the gloom. I am a prisoner of my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PortraitThe stone was cold against Elias’s cheek. He did not move. Above him, the sky was a bruised purple, swollen with clouds that promised rain but held it back. He lay in the dirt of the moor, his tunic torn, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The air smelled of wet earth and iron. He had been walking for three days. His legs had stopped caring about the pain. Only the mind remained, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe jar sat on the mantelpiece, sealed with wax the color of dried blood. Inside, the elixir swirled, a thick, iridescent fluid that seemed to breathe in the dim light of the parlor. It was not wine. It was not medicine, not in the way the apothecaries of the town understood the term. It was life, distilled and trapped. Silas stood before it, his hands clasped behind his back. They were large...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassThe rain in Manchester did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the city, a persistent, grey breath that coated the cobblestones of Ancoats in a slick, oily sheen, turning the world into a blurred watercolor of soot and iron. Elias Thorne stood beneath the awning of the closed apothecary on Miller Street, his coat heavy with the dampness that had soaked through the wool and settled into his...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ExileThe rain in the city of Oram was not water, but a slow, grey dissolution of the sky, falling in sheets that turned the cobblestones into mirrors of their own decay. Elias Thorne stood on the balcony of the high tower, his hands resting on the iron railing, feeling the cold seep through the leather of his gloves and into the bone of his wrist. Below him, the streets were empty, the citizens of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitThe bell rang at dawn. It was not a cheerful sound. It was a crack, like a bone snapping under a boot. Elias stood by the window. His hands were still. They were always still. He wore a shirt that had been white once. Now it was the color of old milk. The village was waking up. Smoke rose from the chimneys. It hung low in the air. The air tasted of ash. It tasted of fear. Elias looked at his...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe water was already running red by the time I stepped off the ferry, the current churning against the rusted pilings of the dock like a wound that would not close. I had come to Harrow’s Creek to find silence, to let the old man in me wash away the noise of the city, but the noise had followed me, wrapped in the skin of a stranger. I am a teacher of history, a man who has spent forty years...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden DowntownThe rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a thick, grey curtain that erased the boundary between the sky and the earth, blurring the sharp, angular edges of the stone fortress that crouched like a wounded beast on the precipice of the valley. Inside the command tent, the air was stale, tasting of wet wool and the metallic tang of fear, and the map spread across the central table was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek