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 AtlasThe banquet hall of the Obsidian Citadel did not smell of roasted meats or spiced wine, as one might expect in a fortress carved from the living rock of the northern mountains, but rather of damp moss, old parchment, and the metallic tang of blood that had been scrubbed too many times from the flagstones, leaving a ghostly residue that no amount of lye could fully expunge. Here, beneath the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MountainThe rain had been falling for three days, a cold, persistent mist that seeped into the bones of the old manor house and turned the stone floors into slick, treacherous surfaces where the boots of the guards slid with a wet, whispering sound. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the center of the Great Hall, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword that had not seen blood in forty years, feeling the weight...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythThe air tasted of rust. It hung in the throat, thick and metallic. Elias tasted it every morning. He spat into the gutter. The sound was wet. A heavy sound. He looked at the door. It was painted blue. The paint was peeling. The wood was warped. It had been his home for three years. It was a lie. "Come on," he said. His voice was low. It scraped against the silence. "Don't make me say it...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden FarceI dreamt of my hands, not as they were, but as they had been before the world cracked them open, before the iron and the bone and the blood that now stitched them to the earth like roots to a cliff face, and in that dream the fingers were whole, unbroken, capable of holding a glass of whiskey without the trembling that has become my constant companion since the night of the trial, a night that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe seal was broken. It lay on the cold stone floor of the train car, a circle of gold leaf and ancient script that had once bound a door in a city that no longer existed. Elias Vane stared at it. His hands trembled, not from cold, but from the weight of the silence that had swallowed him for three days. He was an exile. Not by choice, but by the sheer, crushing gravity of a system that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe rain fell in sheets, cold and relentless, turning the cobblestones of the lower city into a slick, treacherous mirror. You walked with your head down, shoulders hunched against the biting wind that swept off the harbor. It was a Tuesday, though the day of the week had ceased to matter weeks ago. What mattered was the ache in your left knee, a dull, throbbing pain that had grown so familiar...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PortraitI woke in the grey. The air tasted of iron. And ash. I stood. My boots were wet. Not with water. With blood. My own. Or perhaps not. The ground here did not obey the laws of soil. It shifted. Like a living lung. Inhaling. Exhaling. I looked down. My hands. Clenched. Fists. White knuckles. I was a soldier. Or I had been. In the waking world, I was a man of quiet duties. Of reports. Of silence....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded GuestThe bell in the steeple did not ring. It hung there, a heavy tongue of bronze, silent and still. In the village of Oakhaven, silence was a thing you could see. It settled in the dust motes dancing in the slant of afternoon light. It pooled in the corners of the square. Elias stood by the church door. He was small for his age, a boy of twelve with hands that never stopped moving. He twisted the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusThe rain had been falling on the ivy-covered walls of St. Jude’s for three days, a persistent, rhythmic drumming that seemed to seep into the very bones of the building and, consequently, into the mind of Arthur Penhaligon, who stood by the tall, narrow window of his study, watching the grey water streak down the glass with the slow, deliberate focus of a man trying to solve an equation that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek