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 Wistful AshesThe air in the isolation ward is not merely sterile; it is a physical weight, a thick, gelatinous substance that presses against your eardrums and settles in the hollows of your lungs, smelling faintly of ozone and burnt sugar, a scent that has become so intrinsic to your existence that you can no longer distinguish it from the smell of your own skin. You sit on the narrow, padded bench that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitThe ink on the page is still wet, glistening like a tear that refused to fall, and you press the nib so hard against the paper that it tears the fibers, creating a small, jagged wound in the fiber of the letter. You are writing to your father, but you are not sure if you are writing to him or to the memory of him that you have curated in the silence of this carriage. It is a cold evening in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale PathThe separation from the abbey’s infirmary was not a dismissal, but a sentencing, and I walked the pale, trodden path toward the village with the heavy, rhythmic thud of my own internal judgment accompanying every step. My hands, still stained with the ochre and ash of the mortar I had mixed for the new chapel’s foundation, hung at my sides like dead things, though the air was already thick with...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoMara dreamed of the gate. It was made of bone. White. Pitted. It stood alone in a field of grey ash. No sky. No ground. Just the gate. And the door. The door was open. She reached for it. Her hand passed through the wood. Cold. So cold it burned. She woke with a gasp. The room was dark. The air smelled of wet wool and stale bread. Her head throbbed. A dull, rhythmic pulse behind her eyes. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale PathThe iron gate groaned. It was a sound like a dying man clearing his throat. "Is the boy ready?" The voice came from the shadows of the portico. It was dry. It was old. It smelled of coal dust and old paper. Elias stood on the wet cobblestones. He was twelve. His hands were white. He clenched them until the knuckles cracked. "Yes, Sir." "Good. Do not run. Do not look back. The King’s breath is...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe watch sat on the table. It was a heavy thing, brass and scarred. The crystal was cracked down the middle. A single hairline fracture. It had been there for years. Thomas picked it up. The metal was cold. It felt dead in his hand. He set it down again. The sound was a dull thud. No tick. No life. Just weight. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The walls were thick. They held the cold of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the tin roof of the watchtower, a relentless, metallic ticking that synchronized with the beating of my heart. I stood by the window, looking out over the gray expanse of the valley, where the mist clung to the tree line like a shroud. My father, Thomas, had been gone for a week. His funeral had been a quiet affair, attended only by...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CipherThe iron key hung heavy on my belt, a cold weight that pulled at the leather of my uniform, a constant, dull ache that spoke of the burden I carried not just in my hands but in the marrow of my bones, a burden that had grown so large over the last three years of service in the Imperial Court that it seemed to have fused itself to my spine, making me stoop, making me bend, until I was no longer...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestThe bread was a lie, a pale and soft deception that sat upon the white linen tablecloth like a small, dead bird, and I watched it with the dull, persistent hunger of a man who has forgotten the taste of anything but ash, for in the high, echoing halls of the Abbey of St. Jude, where the air smelled of beeswax, old stone, and the slow decay of centuries, we did not eat to live but to prove that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek