0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Distant CartographThe rain had not stopped. It was a thin, persistent mist that clung to the glass of the archive windows, blurring the world outside into a grey smear. I sat at my desk. The fluorescent light buzzed. It was a low, electric hum. A sound like a dying bee. I stared at the document in front of me. Case file 409. The ink was black. The paper was yellow. It smelled of dust and old fear. I am a man who...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborYou dream of the glass. It is not a dream. It is the only thing real. You hold it. It is cold. It is sharp. It is your face. You are in the house. The house is old. The house is yours. Or it is eating you. You do not know. You do not care. You look at the shard. It reflects you. You look at the shard. It reflects the room. The room is empty. The room is full. You are the detective here. You are...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe mist does not lift. It thickens. You step off the cobblestones of the old village square and onto a path that has no business existing, a strip of mossy earth that spirals downward into a valley of pale, silent trees. Your name is Elara, though the wind here strips it from you, leaving only the sound of your own breathing and the creak of your boots. You are not the daughter of the Miller....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldThe shield was heavy. It was made of oak and iron, and it smelled of old sweat and dried blood. Thomas carried it on his back. The strap cut into his shoulder. He did not feel it. He felt only the weight. He walked through the woods. The trees were tall. They blocked the sky. The light was thin. It fell in gray shafts. Thomas walked on. His boots were muddy. The mud was cold. It seeped into his...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitOctober 14, 1892 The wisteria is blooming again, and it smells of copper and old pennies. It is a golden color this year, brighter than the sun, creeping up the black iron fence of the prison yard like a living thing that has learned to hate. I am sitting in my office, the ink still wet on the parchment of Julian’s appeal, and I can hear the muffled cheers from the square below. They are...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CellarThe rain hammered the slate roof. It sounded like knuckles rapping on wood. Hard. Insistent. "You’re late, Thomas," said the woman. Her voice was thin. Dry. Like paper tearing. Thomas adjusted his collar. He looked at the door. It was oak. Old. Heavy. "The roads are bad, Mrs. Gable." "The roads are always bad here." She stepped aside. The air inside smelled of damp stone and candle wax. And...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe banquet hall smelled of roasting pork and stale beer. It was a thick, cloying scent that clung to the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat. He sat at the long oak table, his hands folded, his eyes fixed on the centerpiece. A porcelain urn. It was cracked. A hairline fracture ran from the lip to the base, jagged and white against the blue glaze. Elias touched his own pocket. Inside lay the shackle....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoYou wake with the taste of iron on your tongue. It is not blood. It is rust. The air is thick. It hangs heavy in the lungs. You breathe it in. It tastes of old coins and wet stone. You are standing in a field. No, not a field. A clearing. The grass is high. It is pale. It whispers against your shins. It sounds like dry bones clicking together. You look down at your hands. They are steady. They...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe frost did not merely settle upon the glass; it invaded it, creeping across the windowpanes of the high, cold hall like a slow, silent army of white lace, erasing the world outside until there was nothing left but the grey, silent void of the interior. I stood before the Great Mirror, that monolithic slab of silvered glass that had watched the rise and fall of empires in its reflection, and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek