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 Wistful VoyageYou hold the badge. It is cold. It is heavy. It is a slab of tarnished silver that has seen too much rain. It sits in your palm. The metal bites into your skin. You are in the break room. The coffee is black. It is bitter. It tastes of burnt sugar and old pennies. You do not drink it. You only hold the cup. Your hands shake. The room is small. The walls are painted a dull, institutional beige....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe train hisses. Steam coils. You step off. The platform is cold. Iron rings the air. You carry the box. It is heavy. Wood. Brass. Locked. You look up. The city waits. Brick and soot. Smoke chokes the sky. The year is 1914. The air tastes of coal and fear. You are Thomas. You are the keeper. You are the son. Your father is gone. Dead. Or so they say. The letter said dead. The stamp was red....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MasterThe first syllable of the name, spoken not by the voice of the dead but by the trembling, wet, and utterly unashamed mouth of the traitor, hung in the sterile, humming air of the evacuation corridor like a splinter of bone lodged deep in the throat of the world. It was a sound that possessed no volume, no pitch, and no semantic weight in the conventional sense, yet it registered in the auditory...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseThe air in the archive smelled of dust and dying paper. It was a dry, brittle scent. Margaret Holloway stood in the center of the room. She was the only one there. The fluorescent lights hummed above her. A low, electric drone. It vibrated in her teeth. She held a box in her hands. It was small. Cardboard. The label read: Series 4, Subsection 12. The files of the late Dr. Aris Thorne. Margaret...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe train cut through the grey fog of the industrial sector, a steel serpent hissing against the rusted tracks, carrying Elias Thorne away from the quiet suffocation of his home. He sat with his spine rigid, a posture ingrained not by comfort but by decades of service in the Bureau of Nutritional Compliance. Outside the window, the city of Oakhaven sprawled in layers of soot and brick, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeThe iron key sat in my pocket like a stone. It was cold. It was heavy. It was the only thing I owned that felt real. The rest of me was a ghost, drifting through the fog that hung low over the harbor of Blackwood. The town smelled of brine and rust. The air was thick with the exhaust of the new locomotives that hissed along the tracks, spitting steam into the grey morning. I walked. My boots...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe dream came again. It was a corridor of white stone, endless and cold. The floor was wet with condensation. In the center of the path lay a single, golden leaf. It did not rot. It did not dry. It sat there, bright as a coin, waiting. Elias woke with the taste of copper in his mouth. He sat up in the narrow bed of his office at the Sterling & Vance Archives. The rain lashed against the high...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe air in the cellar of the old mill smelled of wet stone and the specific, metallic tang of iron that had been kept too long in the dark, a scent that clawed at the back of Elias Thorne’s throat as he stood before the heavy oak door, his hands trembling not from cold but from the sheer, crushing weight of the truth he had been chasing for three years. It was a kind of truth that did not sit...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe house did not burn; it exhaled, a long, shuddering sigh of grey smoke that curled into the twilight like the last breath of a dying god, leaving the air thick with the scent of wet ash and the lingering, cloying sweetness of burnt honey. I stood in the yard, the mud sucking at my boots as if the earth itself were trying to pull me down into its dark, silent belly, and I watched the pale...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek