Co-Scribe Co-Scribe
Risultati di ricerca
Mostra tutti i risultati
  • Iscriviti
    Registrati
    Iscriviti
    Cerca
    Night Mode

Elenco

Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends

  • Utenti
  • Articoli
  • Pagine
  • Gruppi
  • Events
  • Blogs
  • Offers
  • Jobs
  • Harriet Lockhart ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 10:59:44 -
    The Pale Letter
    The sword was a mistake. That was the first thought that cleared the fog. The second thought was the smell of iron. The third was the pain in his shoulder, a hot, jagged thing that pulsed with his heartbeat. Silas Vane dropped the blade. It clattered on the cobblestones. He did not look at it. He looked at the man on the ground. The man was not dead. He was breathing. He was staring up at the...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 3 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Julian Merritt ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 10:59:59 -
    The Pale Tale
    The bell tower stands in the center of the town, a hollow throat of grey stone. It is old. It is broken. You have been coming here for three years. Every night at dusk, you climb the spiral stairs. The stone is cold under your palms. It wears down. Your fingernails chip. The mortar crumbles. You do not care. You are looking for something. Or rather, you are looking for the absence of...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Margaret Calloway ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 10:59:45 -
    The Wistful Silence
    The morning mist lay heavy over the valley, a thick, pale shroud that swallowed the hedgerows and the distant church spire. Elara woke before the sun had truly broken the horizon, her breath forming small, fleeting ghosts in the cold air of the stone cottage. She was seven years old, though she often felt the weight of a century upon her shoulders. Outside, the world was not the world she knew....
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Eleanor Whitmore ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 10:58:56 -
    The Faded Apartment
    The chrysanthemums in the window box were dying, their petals curling inward like burned fingers, a slow and silent surrender to the damp October air that had begun to seep through the cracks in the double-glazed panes of my apartment on Miller Street. I stood before them, my hands resting on the cold metal of the railing, watching the way the light fractured through the wilting blooms, a...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Eleanor Holloway ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 11:00:03 -
    The Faded Portrait
    The rain did not fall upon the city of Oakhaven so much as it descended from a bruised and swollen sky, a relentless, silver curtain that blurred the edges of the world until the cobblestones became a mirror for the weeping heavens and the gaslamps flickered like dying stars trapped in glass. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the threshold of his office, a man whose suit was cut from the finest wool but...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 2 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Josephine Fenwick ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 10:58:48 -
    The Faded Frequency
    The letter lay on the kitchen table. It was a single sheet, cream-colored, brittle at the edges. I had found it in the drawer of the old desk in my father’s study. The desk was gone now, sold at auction. But the paper remained. I read it. It was dated November 14th, nineteen ninety-eight. My father wrote to his brother, Thomas. Thomas lived in Chicago. He had died in the winter of two thousand...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Edward Fairchild ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 10:59:08 -
    The Pale Letter
    The fever broke at dawn, leaving a taste of copper and ash in Maren’s mouth. She lay in the narrow bed of the infirmary wing, the white sheets stiff with sweat. Outside, the rain hammered against the glass. It was a relentless, industrial rhythm. The steam engines of the textile mill next door groaned in the dark. Their smoke mixed with the fog that clung to the town of Oakhaven. Maren was not...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Silas Calloway ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 11:00:23 -
    The Faded Paradox
    The rain slicked the cobblestones of Whitechapel into a black mirror. I watched it. The water ran in thin, silver veins. It tasted of iron and old stone. I stood by the window. My coat was damp. The steam from the streetlamps blurred the world outside. It felt soft. It felt distant. I am not a man who fits in. I am a ghost in a heavy suit. I left home to be free. I was wrong. Freedom is a cold...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Amelia Merritt ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 11:00:04 -
    The Faded Paradox
    The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the manor house and turned the gravel drive into a muddy slurry. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the library, holding a book with the fragility of a newborn bird. He was a man of forty years, with hair that had begun to silver at the temples and eyes that held the tired, heavy look of one who had...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 7 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Eleanor Thorne ha aggiunto una foto Literature
    2026-08-21 11:00:35 -
    The Wistful Letter
    The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey, weeping veil that smothered the cobblestones of Whitmore’s Quarter until the city itself seemed to be drowning in a slow, suffocating bath of mud and sorrow. I stood at the threshold of my cramped attic room, the door ajar to let in the damp chill that smelled of wet stone and old rot, watching the silhouette of the night watchman as...
    0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima
    Effettua l'accesso per mettere mi piace, condividere e commentare!
  • Mostrati (445161-445170 di 673037)
  • «
  • Prec.
  • 44515
  • 44516
  • 44517
  • 44518
  • 44519
  • Succ.
  • »
© 2026 Co-Scribe Italiano
English Arabic French Spanish Portuguese Deutsch Turkish Dutch Italiano Russian Romaian Portuguese (Brazil) Greek
About Termini e Condizioni Privacy Contattaci Support Center Elenco