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 TempleThe rain in London did not fall so much as it hung, a grey and heavy curtain that blurred the sharp edges of the city into a smear of soot and wet brick. Silas Thorne, a man whose coat had seen better decades and whose spirit had seen worse, stood on the wet pavement of Charing Cross, watching the carriage wheels churn through the muck. He was a detective of the peculiar variety, one who...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassYou stand in the center of the atrium, the glass above you catching the late afternoon sun and fracturing it into a million cold, sharp diamonds that fall across the polished marble floor. The light is too bright. It bleaches the color from the faces of the men standing in the circle around you. They are wearing suits that cost more than your annual salary, fabrics that move like water when...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ChronicleThe fog in Oakhaven did not lift; it merely thinned, revealing the wet, grey cobblestones of the High Street and the shop windows of the apothecary. Elias Thorne stood behind the counter, his hands trembling slightly as he polished a glass vial filled with a dark, viscous liquid. The tincture was his father’s legacy, a remedy for the wasting sickness that had taken half the village in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitThe dream had no sky. It was only a room, vast and circular, with walls of white stone that hummed with a low, electric frequency. Elara stood at the center, her hands empty, her breath shallow. The air tasted of ozone and old paper. She woke with the taste still on her tongue, a metallic tang that clung to the back of her throat. The cottage in the Yorkshire moors was silent. Rain tapped...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ChronicleThe ink was bleeding. Marianne sat on the floor of the library. Her back was against the cold stone of the hearth. The fire was low. It spat and popped. Outside, the wind howled through the ivy. It sounded like teeth chattering. Inside, the air smelled of wet wool and old paper. She held the book in her hands. It was a ledger. It was not a ledger. It was a skin. The pages were thin. They were...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographThe dream began with the taste of copper and old rain, a metallic tang that coated the back of Wynn’s tongue before he even opened his eyes. He lay in the damp grass of the Green, that ancient, mossy expanse behind the manor house where the shadows stretched long and thin like taffy. But the sky above was not the grey, sullen expanse of the English autumn it had been only moments ago. It was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CrownThe blood is rust-colored and cold against the bristles of the scrub brush, a sludge that refuses to yield to the harsh chemical spray, and you, Elias, are on your knees in the basement of St. Jude’s Hospice, your knees aching with a dull, persistent throb that matches the low-frequency hum of the ventilation system. Above you, hovering just out of reach of the fluorescent lights, is the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeYou stand at the edge of the glass. The city below is a smear of neon and rain. It is not the city you knew. It is the city they built over your grave. You remember the weight of the steel. You remember the blood on your knuckles. They called you a monster. They called you a threat. They called you a necessary evil. You were only trying to keep the peace. Now the peace has a price. And the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe glass shattered. It did not break with a loud crash, but with a silent, internal sigh, like a bone snapping under too much weight. Eleanor Whitmore watched the shards scatter across the sterile white tile. They were beautiful, jagged diamonds catching the harsh, fluorescent hum of the Ward. She did not pick them up. She could not. Her hands were trembling, a fine, electric vibration that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek