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The Golden HarborThe bell tower cracked first. It did not fall. It did not shatter into a rain of mortar and stone. It simply opened, like a ripe fruit, splitting down the center with a sound that was less a noise than a physical blow to the chest. You stood in the square, small and trembling against the gray cobblestones. The dust rose. It hung in the air, a thick, yellow fog that smelled of ancient lime and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful MirrorThe rain fell like a curse. I walked. The road was mud. The mud was black. It sucked at my boots. I pulled them free. I walked on. The forest closed in. Trees stood like sentinels. They had no faces. They had only bark. I wore the cloak. It was heavy. It was wet. It was mine. My mother’s. No. It was older. It was ancient. It smelled of smoke and iron. I clung to it. I was cold. The cold was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded GuestThe gate is heavy. You push it open with your shoulder. The iron groans. It sounds like a bone snapping. You are leaving. The courtyard is empty. The stones are cold. You look back at the House. It looms. The windows are dark. You are a soldier. You are old. Your knees ache. You feel the years in your joints. You are leaving the command. You are leaving the power. You walk to the door. Your...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant CrownThe cellar smelled of damp earth and rotting paper. Margaret stood in the center of the circular room, her hands trembling against the cold stone floor. Above her, the war raged. She could feel the vibrations of distant artillery through the ceiling, a rhythmic thumping that matched the frantic beating of her heart. It was a sound that had become the background noise of their existence. A...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale BonsaiThe office was a tomb of recycled air and fluorescent hum, a place where the light did not so much illuminate as it accused, flattening the faces of men and women into pale, expressionless masks of compliance. I sat at my desk, a rectangular island of laminate in a sea of identical desks, and watched a single, pale bonsai tree on the windowsill. It was not a real bonsai, of course, but a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden ScarThe rain in the city of Aethelgard did not fall; it drifted, a fine, persistent mist that settled into the pores of the skin and the rust of the iron bridges, carrying with it the faint, metallic taste of the old world, a taste that Elias Thorne had grown accustomed to over the last decade of his service in the Bureau of Corrective Memory. He stood at the window of his small, dimly lit office...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded MasqueradeThe iron lungs of the great hall in the manor of Lord Ashworth, a sprawling Victorian carcass of blackened oak and tarnished silver that sat heavy and rotting on the cliff edge above the churning grey waters of the North Sea, did not breathe, nor did they exhale, but they held their breath in a suffocating, stagnant silence that pressed against the eardrums of every guest who had descended from...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Pale LetterThe boiler coughed. It was a dry, rattling sound. A metal death rattle. Elias stood in the corridor. His hands shook. He held the thermometer. The mercury was red. It was high. Too high. "Is it working?" his father asked. Thomas stood by the machine. He wore a white coat. It was stained with oil. He looked tired. He looked old. "It is stable," Thomas said. His voice was flat. Elias looked at...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden VisitThe frost on the windowpanes was thick enough to write on, and I was writing my resignation, or rather, my confession, when the knock came. It was a sharp, rhythmic sound, three distinct raps that cut through the hum of the radiator. I didn’t move. I kept my pen hovering over the paper, the ink blotting a small, dark circle in the center of the page like a pupil dilating in the dark. "It's...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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