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 Golden ScarI dream of the hum. It is a low frequency. A vibration in the bone. The steel sings. The coal breathes. I am the instrument. I am the tuning fork. The glass is cracked. The light is red. I close my eyes. I open them. The room is cold. The walls are concrete. Gray. Smooth. No windows. Only the door. And the vent. The air tastes of ozone and rust. I am in Cell 4. The number is stenciled in white...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe banquet hall of the Ashworth Estate was a cathedral of smoke and gaslight, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted pheasant, stale perfume, and the metallic tang of anxiety that permeates every room where power is traded like currency. Margaret sat at the edge of the mahogany table, her fingers tracing the intricate, fading gold leaf of the goblet before her, a vessel that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe sky split open with a sound like tearing silk. It was not thunder. It was a shriek, high and thin, that vibrated in the teeth of everyone in the lower districts. Cael dropped his bowl. The ceramic shattered against the cobblestones. Porridge spilled, thick and grey, pooling in the cracks of the ancient street. He did not look down. He looked up. The air was already tasting of iron and burnt...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingThe rain does not fall here; it hangs. It is a suspended curtain of grey mist that smells of wet wool and old pennies, clinging to the windows of the St. Jude’s Orphanage annex, a place that exists less as a building than as a memory of a building. You are sitting in the basement, in the room they call The Vault, though it holds no gold, only boxes of water-stained ledgers and a single, unlit...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe coal scuttle sat in the corner of the master bedroom, a squat, iron beast with a lid that hung open on a rusted hinge, and inside it, where the black lumps of anthracite should have been stacked to feed the stove in the parlor below, there lay the silence of my father’s last breath, a silence that had grown so heavy and so absolute that it seemed to press against the walls of the house,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitThe chain was cold. It bit into my shoulder like a snake. I held my head low. The floor was wet stone. It smelled of rust and old blood. I was the King’s Sword. I was his shadow. I was also his prisoner. My name is Thomas. I was the best. I knew every cut. I knew every guard. I had bled for the Crown for thirty years. Now I knelt in the dark. The guards watched. They did not speak. They did not...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CipherYou wake in the cellar. The air tastes of iron and wet stone. A single candle gutters in the dark. Your hands are bound. The rope is rough. It bites into your wrists. You are a soldier. You know this. You do not remember your name. Or perhaps you have lost it. The body remembers. The mind is fog. A door creaks above. Footsteps. Heavy. Slow. A man descends. He is old. His face is a map of scars....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AlibiThe air in the Grand Hall of the Ironworks tasted of coal dust and roasted pheasant, a thick, cloying mixture that settled in the lungs like a fine, grey silt, choking the vibrant color from the world and reducing the bustling crowd of men in top hats and women in silks to a monochromatic smear of anxiety and greed, where the noise of the conversation was not a sound but a physical weight, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SilenceThe fog does not roll in here; it breathes, a slow, rhythmic exhalation from the lungs of the world, pressing against the soot-blackened windows of the locomotive until the glass fogs with a weeping condensation that blurs the boundary between the inside and the outside, between the solid wood of the carriage and the dissolving ether of the industrial night. You are sitting in the corner, your...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek