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 Faded DustThe badge was cold in Elias Thorne’s palm, heavier than it had been for twenty-two years. Major Vance stood over him in the dim light of the patrol station, his face a mask of bureaucratic indifference. "You’re relieved of duty, Captain. Effective immediately." Elias looked at the brass, polished to a mirror sheen by his thumb over the decades. He wanted to ask why, but the question felt...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe collapse does not begin with a sound, but with a silence so absolute and heavy that it presses against the eardrums like deep water, a void where the air used to be, and then the world shatters in a single, violent exhalation of dust and fractured plaster as the ceiling of the St. Jude’s Annex comes down, not entirely, but enough to seal the room in a tomb of its own making, leaving you...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful LetterThe rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the glass of the highland manor into a sheet of static, a screen through which Arthur Penhaligon watched the moors dissolve into a mist that tasted of iron and old stone, his breath fogging the pane in small, frantic circles that vanished before they could settle, marking the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusThe ink was not black. It was the color of a bruise, deep and swollen, and it moved across the vellum with a wet, sucking sound that I could hear in my teeth. My hand trembled, not from cold, but from the sudden, violent absence of energy that followed each stroke. I am Elias, and I am twenty-four years old, though I feel older than the stones of the Abbey of St. Jude. I sit in the scriptorium,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CrownThe bus rattles over the cobblestones, a sound like bones grinding against each other in the dry wind. You sit by the window, your hands folded in your lap, knuckles white. The town of Oakhaven rises from the mist, slate roofs dark against the gray sky. It is a place where time moves differently, where the fog clings to the shoulders of the dead as much as the living. You are here for the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe fog rolled in from the harbor. It tasted of salt and iron. I woke with the scent in my throat. My brother, Julian, was gone. He had been gone for three days. The police said he was a runaway. They said he was a criminal. They were wrong. I am not a man who believes in ghosts. I am an investigator. I deal in facts. In paper. In ink. But this town, Oakhaven, is not a place for facts. It is a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestThe ink is dry on the ledger, but your hand is not. You are Elias, forty-two, a scribe in the city of Oakhaven, and you are terrified. The winter solstice is three days away. By then, your pension must be secured, or you will be cast out into the cold like the rest of the lower district. Your eyes ache behind the thick lenses of your spectacles, a constant, grinding pressure that makes the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeThe ledger book in your hands is heavy, its leather cover slick with the condensation of a cellar that has not seen the sun in a century, and the weight of it presses against your palms like a physical accusation, a debt that has accrued interest over forty years of service to the Ministry of Unseen Debits. You are Elias Thorne, and you are here to close the books of the Hollow Court before the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestMarch 12 The hem of the coat was fraying, a thin unraveling of navy wool that Elias held in his fingers with the same steady, animal care he gave to anything that belonged to me, his thumb pressing the loose threads flat against the light of the kitchen window. I stood before the mirror, the garment still on my shoulders, feeling the weight of it settle into the familiar hollow of my spine, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek