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 Faded DustThe wind had a taste. It was metallic, sharp, and carried the dry scent of crushed pine needles and old earth. Elias Vance adjusted the strap of his satchel. It cut into his shoulder. He walked on. The road was narrow. It wound through the highlands. The sky was a pale, washed-out blue. There were no clouds. Just a vast, indifferent emptiness. Elias was a cartographer. He had spent thirty years...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SkylineThe fire does not consume the village so much as it erases it. You watch from the ridge, your boots sinking into the ash that has already begun to settle on the ancient pines, and you feel the heat not as a burn but as a presence, a heavy hand pressing against your chest. You are a scholar of herbs and humors, a man who has spent his life cataloguing the green world in ledgers, but you are...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RootThe frost did not come gently to the valley of Eldoria, but in a single, violent exhalation that turned the black soil to iron and shattered the windows of my cottage before the sun had fully cleared the ridge. I woke to the sound of breaking glass and the smell of rot, for the air inside was thick with the sweet, cloying scent of the withered lilies that had once filled my garden, now crushed...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CartographThe fire started in the East Wing. Margaret saw the smoke first. It curled from the eaves like a grey serpent. It was thin. Pale. It smelled of pine and old dust. She stood on the terrace. Her hands were cold. The air was sharp. She did not run. She watched. The flames caught the shutters. They bit into the wood. Orange light flickered against the stone. The great house groaned. A beam snapped....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the gravel driveway of the Whitmore estate into a slurry of mud and broken leaves, and as I pulled the rusted station wagon to a halt in front of the iron gates, I felt the weight of the past six months settle into my bones with the dull, aching pressure of a bruise that refuses to heal. I was an immigrant now, not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingYou wake with the taste of iron and wet earth on your tongue, the dream still clinging to you like a damp shroud, a memory of wings that did not belong to you but which you had flown with such desperate, aching grace. You are lying in the narrow bed of the attic room, the one with the sloping ceiling that presses against your skull like a thought you cannot quite finish, and the air is thick...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale Tale“You will break,” said the Lord. It was a simple sentence. It hung in the air like smoke. Elias did not answer. He stood in the courtyard. The stones were cold. His hands were bare. They were stained with old blood. New blood had not yet dried. The Lord smiled. It was a thin smile. He held a cup of wine. The wine was dark. It looked like mud. “Break,” the Lord repeated. Elias looked at the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldDreams are wet things. They have weight. They smell of iron and wet wool. In the dream, the sky is the color of a bruise, purple and yellow, swelling over the city. The buildings are not buildings but bones. Long, white spines of concrete. The streets are veins. And in the veins, something crawls. Miles woke with his mouth full of dust. He spat it into his palm. It was red. Not blood. Just the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe cell was cold. It was always cold. Elias sat on the concrete slab. His knees were pressed together. He breathed in through his nose. He breathed out through his mouth. The rhythm was steady. It was the only thing he could control. The walls were gray. They were stained with water. The stains looked like maps of places that no longer existed. He looked at a stain near the door. It looked...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek