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 CrownYou wake in the cold. Not the cold of winter, but the cold of stone, of damp earth, of a time before memory had learned to soften the edges of things. You are Aldric. You know this because the name sits heavy in your chest, a stone in the throat, but you do not know if you are Aldric the Knight, or Aldric the Fool, or merely the flesh that remembers the weight of iron. The air smells of pine...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe dream is always the same: a black river of obsidian shattering against a granite anvil, the sound like a bone snapping in the deep of the night. I wake with the taste of iron on my tongue and the distinct, physical ache of a phantom limb, a throbbing pain in my right hand where no wound exists. I am forty-two years old, a man who has spent the last two decades cataloging the dead, yet I am...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe champagne flute in your hand is thin, almost translucent, and it trembles slightly as you lift it to your lips. You are nineteen, a junior archivist at the Sterling Foundation, and you are watching Director Halloway hold the room. He stands on the dais, his suit tailored to a precision that makes your own frayed cuffs feel like an insult, and he speaks of legacy with the ease of a man...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe rain hit the tin roof like gravel. Silas sat on the porch step. His hands shook. They always shook when it rained. The cold seeped into his bones. He held his knees. The leather of his gloves was cracked. Dry as old earth. He looked at the road. The mud was thick. Black and slick. He waited. The truck came around the bend. It sputtered. It coughed black smoke. The headlights cut through the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful GridThe letter arrived on a Tuesday, tucked inside a manila envelope that smelled faintly of damp wool and the metallic tang of the telegraph office, a scent that had become so woven into the fabric of Thomas Bradshaw’s daily life in the last three years that he had stopped noticing it, until now, when the paper cut against his thumb and reminded him that he was still a man who could feel the sharp...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded Dust"You look pale, Thomas." I wiped my hand on my tunic. The cloth was stained with ink. And dirt. And blood, perhaps. Or just rust. The wind howled outside. It tore at the shutters. I did not answer. I could not. My voice was a stone in my throat. "Is it the fever?" he asked. "No." He stepped closer. He smelled of lavender. And fear. "Then what?" I looked at him. Really looked. He was not a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe ink had dried. It sat on the desk. Black. Final. Margaret stared. Her hands shook. Not much. Just a tremor. Like a leaf in wind. She was a clerk. That was all. A woman of dust and paper. In the Hall of Records. The Hall was old. Stone walls. High ceilings. Light came in thin slices. It was a palace of truth. Or so they said. Truth is heavy. Margaret loved the records. She loved the order....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe hall smelled of rust and old blood, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias’s throat before he even stepped across the threshold. He stood in the center of the stone floor, his lute case clutched to his chest like a shield, while the shadows of the courtiers stretched unnaturally long across the walls, bending around the pillars as if the light itself were afraid to touch them. Lord...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AlibiThe coffee had gone cold again, its surface a mirror for the dust motes dancing in the weak afternoon light that filtered through the grime-caked window of the office. I watched the liquid swirl, a slow, brown galaxy that seemed to have no center, no purpose, and no end. It was a small, domestic tragedy, this cup of coffee, and it sat on the desk beside the file that had consumed the last three...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek