0 Comments
0 Shares
3 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Golden RitualThe bell rang. It was a dull, flat sound. It did not chime. It banged. Margaret heard it from the cellar. She was scrubbing the floor. The water was cold. It stung her fingers. She did not stop. She scrubbed the grout. The black line between the tiles. It looked like a crack. It looked like a wound. She scrubbed harder. The bell rang again. It meant the shift was over. It meant the men were...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldThe heavy oak door of the cellar clicks shut behind you with a finality that tastes of iron and old dust, sealing you in a world that has forgotten how to breathe. You are twelve, or perhaps thirteen, the exact number having blurred in the amber haze of the long summer afternoon, but you know with the certainty of a stone dropped into deep water that you are alone down here. The air is thick,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe stone beneath your fingers is cold, a damp, living thing that has absorbed the sweat of ten thousand years, and you are kneeling in the nave of the cathedral, the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of light that pierces the gloom above you, suspended in the air like the souls of those who died before the bells could be rung to mark their passing. You are a scholar, or so the university...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PortraitThe salt air of the harbor town of Oakhaven tasted of iron and old prayers, a brine that clung to the tongue like a curse. Silas Thorne sat in the shadow of his cell, the stone walls weeping with the dampness of the deep earth, and he held the loaf of bread in his hands as if it were a holy relic, or perhaps a grenade waiting to detonate. It was a simple thing, dark as the soil from which the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitThe feast had begun. It had been going on for three days, perhaps four. Time had lost its linear grip in the manor house, stretching thin over the candlelight like taffy. Margaret Holloway sat at the long oak table, her hands folded in her lap. She wore the grey wool dress that the steward had insisted upon, a garment of modest cut and heavy texture. It was not a gown for a queen, nor even for...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe mud sucked at the soles of his boots with a wet, heavy groan, a sound that echoed in the hollow of Elias’s chest as he pressed his shoulder against the splintered oak door of the watchtower, his muscles screaming in a language older than words. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp wool, old blood, and the acrid bite of tallow candles that had burned down to nubs, their light...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe house stood on the hill like a broken tooth. It was a Victorian monstrosity of black iron and soot. Smoke curled from its chimneys, thin and gray, dissolving into the London fog. Thomas Hale stood in the center of the grand hall. He held the blade in his left hand. The blade was a letter opener. It was simple. Steel. Sharp. It had a handle of dark wood, worn smooth by years of use. Thomas...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MasterThe rain against the leaded glass of the study window did not sound like water; it sounded like the slow, rhythmic ticking of a clock that had forgotten how to count. I sat at the desk, my hands resting on the spine of a leather-bound volume that contained the complete works of a poet whose name I could no longer recall, though I had spent the better part of my career deciphering his syntax....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale PathThe rain had turned the gravel of the courtyard into a slurry of mud and slate, a gray paste that sucked at the soles of my boots with a wet, visceral pull. I stood before the heavy oak doors of the Hall, the air thick with the scent of wet stone and old, decaying wood, and I felt the weight of the past pressing against my sternum, a physical burden as dense as the masonry around me. My hands...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek