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 Faded BouquetThe rain did not fall. It hung in the air, a thick, gray wool that smelled of wet stone and old blood. Thomas stood at the edge of the cliff. His boots were heavy. The mud clung to the leather like a living thing, eager to pull him down. He looked at the boy in front of him. The boy was small. He was shivering. His lips were blue. "You are cold," Thomas said. His voice was low. It scraped...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe iron gate screamed. It was a sound like a dying animal, high and thin, tearing through the heavy silence of the crypt. Elias stood in the center of the stone floor, his hands bleeding. The blood was thick, black in the dim light of the single tallow candle. He did not flinch. He had not flinched since the first strike. The stone walls pressed in, close and cold, smelling of damp earth and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe ice cracked before the world did. You felt it first in your teeth, a sharp, metallic taste that flooded your mouth. Then the sound came. Not a snap, but a groan. The deep, tectonic shudder of the frozen lake giving way. You were standing on the edge of the void, your boots slipping on the black glass. "Move," said Elias. His voice was thin, stripped of everything but the command. You did...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CellarThe bells rang at dawn. They did not ring for peace. They rang for the purge. I stood in the square. The mud was black and slick. It sucked at my boots. I felt the weight of my cloak. It was heavy with rain. And heavier with guilt. I looked up. The sky was the color of a bruise. Purple. Swollen. Waiting to break. "Move, Thomas," a voice said. It was soft. It was kind. It cut me. I turned. I saw...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MasterThe rain fell upon the slate roof of the Abbey of St. Jude not as water, but as a fine, grey dust that settled into the cracks of the mortar with a persistence that suggested it had been there for centuries, waiting for the specific frequency of my footsteps to wake it into motion, and I walked the narrow, spiraling corridor of the scriptorium’s upper gallery, my leather satchel heavy against...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe train shook with a rhythmic, metallic groan, a sound that had become the heartbeat of my existence for the last three days. I sat in the corner of the second-class compartment, my back against the cold steel wall, watching the blurred landscape of the industrial Midwest streak past the window. Outside, the world was gray and heavy with the promise of rain, a landscape of rusted rail yards...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe rain in this part of the valley did not fall so much as it hovered, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the brickwork of the house and seeped into the pores of the skin, carrying with it the faint, metallic tang of the old copper pipes and the deeper, sweeter rot of the garden that had been left untended for three years, a silence that was less an absence of sound and more a heavy,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineThe fog did not roll in so much as it remembered itself, thickening the air of the estate until the windows of the manor were blind, white squares staring out at a world that had ceased to exist. Inside, the library smelled of beeswax and the slow decay of paper, a scent that Margaret Holloway had spent thirty years learning to distinguish from the smell of fear. She sat in the high-backed...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdI woke with the taste of copper and cold river water on my tongue, the heavy, suffocating weight of the cellar damp clinging to the sheets like a second skin. The dream had been intricate, a labyrinth of twisting iron pipes and gaslight flickering through fog, where I saw myself standing before a tribunal of shadowed figures, my hands bound not by rope but by the sheer, undeniable weight of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek