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 Distant AffairThe train did not move through space so much as it dissolved it, a sleek, silver needle stitching the grey void of the American Midwest into a single, unbroken thread of sound. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the first-class car, his posture rigid, a monument to a silence that had grown too heavy for his lungs to bear. His hands, folded in his lap, were the center of his world. They were...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe rain had stopped, but the air still tasted of wet iron and decay. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the moor, his boots sinking into the sucking peat. He did not look back. To look back was to admit he was leaving something behind, and Elias had not left anything in ten years. He had only arrived. The village of Blackhollow lay behind him, a cluster of stone and slate that seemed to lean...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseThe roof collapsed at dawn. Not all of it. Just the eastern wing. Dust billowed into the blue morning air like a ghost released. Elara did not scream. She stood in the kitchen, her hands trembling around a clay pot. The pot was warm. It had been on the hearth all night. It was full of the black sap. Her son, Thomas, lay in the ruins. He was not dead. He was breathing. But his eyes were open....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe rain had not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray drizzle that turned the cobblestones of the town square into a slick, reflective mirror of the leaden sky above. I stood by the high window of the apothecary, watching the water bead and run down the glass in long, slow rivulets that distorted the view of the street below, where the shadows of the townspeople stretched long and thin,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ChronicleThe alarm did not ring, which was the first wrong thing, and then the silence in the ward became so absolute, so heavy with the scent of antiseptic and old wool, that Margaret felt the floor tilt beneath her slippers as if the hospital were a ship in a storm that had no wind. She lay in the narrow bed, the white sheets twisted into a knot by her restless hands, and she knew with a cold,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe rain had stopped, but the air still held the weight of the storm. Elias sat in the corner of the grand foyer, his back against the cold marble of a pillar. He was small here, dwarfed by the chandeliers that hung like frozen stars above the polished floors. The house was vast. It was the seat of power, the place where decisions were made that shaped the world, yet it felt like a tomb. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureI woke with the taste of iron and wet ash on my tongue, the air thick with the hum of a thousand invisible gears. I was standing in the middle of the great Hall of Mirrors, a cavernous space that stretched out into a fog so white it felt like snow. There was no floor, only a suspension of light, and hanging from that light, suspended by threads of spun glass, were the objects I had spent my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe stone is cold against your palm, a slab of ancient granite that has swallowed the light for centuries, and you press your forehead against it until the chill seeps into the bone of your skull. You are in the library, the one that is not a library, the one that is a tomb dressed in the clothes of knowledge, and the air smells of dry rot and old ink and the metallic tang of fear. You have...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded GuestThe rain does not fall; it is beaten down upon the slate roofs of the Ashworth Manor by a wind that smells of wet iron and old blood. You stand in the center of the great hall, your hands raised not in surrender, but in the precise, geometric defense that has kept you alive for forty years. The air is thick with the scent of lavender and decay, a paradox that has come to define your existence....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek