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 AffairThe rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the garden into a soup of mud and decaying leaves. Arthur Penhaligon stood at the window of his study, watching the water streak down the glass, his reflection a pale, ghostly shape superimposed upon the weeping landscape. He was a man who lived in the past, a scholar of dead...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray drizzle that turned the manicured lawns of the Whitmore Estate into a slurry of mud and decay. Margaret Whitmore stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the east wing, her reflection a ghostly overlay on the wet glass. She was seventy-two, a woman whose bones had settled into a permanent, stoic alignment, much like the architecture of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenThe order was specific. You were to find the source of the contamination and neutralize it. The word neutralize was printed in bold red type, a stark command against the grey paper. You had served for thirty years. You knew the weight of the word. It did not mean kill. It meant erase. It meant make the thing no longer exist in the way it had existed before. You packed your kit. The smell of...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeHe dreamed of the hanging, as he had dreamed of it every spring for thirty-three years, but this time there was a difference in the quality of the light that fell across the courthouse lawn, a thin and graveyard light that seemed to come from no direction he could name, and in the dream he stood not among the pressed bodies of the crowd but on the scaffold itself, holding the rope in his bare...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe house breathes in the dark. You can hear it. A low, wet exhalation from the walls, the floorboards, the very air that clings to your skin. You have lived here for thirty years, or perhaps three. Time has become a liquid, viscous and slow, pooling in the corners of the attic where the dust motes dance in the sliver of light that cuts through the boarded-up window. You are here because you...0 Comments 0 Shares 7 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathIn the dream, you are standing in a field of ash, and the sky is the color of old bone. A figure approaches you, tall and draped in a coat of deep, absorbing black, but it is not a coat; it is a cage of woven thorns, heavy and sharp, dragging against the ground. The figure is your husband, Elias, but he is not Elias as he was in the years before the verdict. He is Elias as he is now, hollowed...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe ink was still wet on the ledger. It glistened like a wound in the parchment. The smell of it was sharp, chemical, cutting through the stale air of the Ministry. Thomas held his quill with a grip that whitened his knuckles. He did not look up. To look up would be to acknowledge the presence of the Director. To acknowledge the Director was to acknowledge the judgment. The room was a vault of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ChronicleThe town of Harrow’s End did not sleep so much as it held its breath, a collective suspension of animation that hung heavy and sweet in the air like the scent of rotting fruit. It was a place of muted colors and damp stone, where the fog rolled in from the river each evening to swallow the streetlamps whole. Margaret Holloway sat at the head of the long mahogany table in the town hall, her...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingThe stone bridge was breaking. Not crumbling. Breaking. It snapped under the weight of the procession. Elias watched. He stood on the northern bank. His boots were soaked. The mist was thick. It smelled of rot and iron. The crowd was screaming. No. Not screaming. Chanting. A low, rhythmic thrum. It vibrated in his teeth. He looked at the water. It was black. It was still. The bridge did not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek