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 WoundThe air in the processing unit smelled of ozone and rot, a sharp, chemical tang that coated the back of Margaret’s throat and settled heavy in her lungs. She stood before the extraction vat, her hands steady despite the tremor that had begun to shake her shoulders an hour ago, and watched the viscous, amber fluid swirl in the glass cylinder. It was the essence of the old world, distilled from...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ApartmentThe rain had not ceased in three days, a persistent, grey weeping that turned the cobblestones of the old quarter into slick, treacherous mirrors, reflecting the dim gaslights and the weary, hunched silhouettes of the men who patrolled the streets with the heavy, deliberate rhythm of men who had seen too much to be quick, a silence that was not empty but full of the unspoken weight of a world...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MasterThe jar is in your hand. It is heavy. The glass is thick and clouded with age, and inside, the amber liquid sloshes against the rim. You do not look at it. You look at the man before you. His face is a map of old bruises and new scars. He is tall. He stands in the center of the courtyard. The stone is wet from the night rain. The air smells of wet wool and iron. You are the keeper. You are the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe fire started in the boiler room. It was a small thing at first. A spark. A smell of singed cotton. Then the heat. It rose through the floorboards like a tide. The air turned thick. Sweet. Wrong. Elias stood by the window. He held a ladle. It was heavy. Iron. Worn smooth by decades of use. The handle had a groove. A dent. A scar. He looked at the dent. He thought of his father. He thought of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe air in the library smelled of dust and decaying paper, a scent that had long ago become indistinguishable from the smell of silence. Elias Thorne sat in the corner, his back pressed against the cold stone wall, his fingers trembling slightly as he held the small, cracked ceramic jar. It was an unremarkable object, a relic from a dig site in the Appalachian foothills, yet it contained the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant Whispers"Do you think it smells like rot, or just like iron? I can’t tell anymore. The air in here has a weight to it, a specific gravity that presses against the back of my throat, and I find myself swallowing it down, tasting the copper tang of my own fear mixed with the stale, sweet decay of the orchard outside. You have to help me, Thomas. You have to tell me what to do with this. I am holding it,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairYou drive the truck into the fog. The wipers beat a dull, rhythmic tattoo against the glass. Outside, the world dissolves. There is no road. There is only the white, the gray, and the cold. You are looking for your mother. She vanished three days ago. The police have files. They have notes. They have a name. They do not have her. You have the map. The map is wrong. The map lies. You are an...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe wool of my father’s cloak had not rotted, though it had hung in the attic for forty years, stiffened by the damp of a house that no longer existed. It was a heavy thing, a deep, muddied green that had faded to the color of sea foam and old moss, and when I held it up, the air in the room seemed to thicken, pulling at my lungs with a gentle, persistent suction. I am a clerk in a small office...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe rain on the iron roof of the station sounded like the scratching of dry bones, a relentless, industrial rhythm that had become the heartbeat of Silas’s waking life. He stood by the window, watching the fog roll off the harbor, thick and yellow, swallowing the masts of the steamships until they were only dark ghosts drifting in the grey void. It was the night he was to leave, the night the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek