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 GardenThe oak sapling was wrapped in damp burlap, its roots exposed and black with dried mud, and Elias Thorne held it against his chest like a shield he had forgotten how to lower. The harvest feast was in full swing inside the community hall, the air thick with the smell of roasted corn and wet wool, but Elias stood by the heavy oak doors, his badge still pinned to his shirt though the metal felt...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe counter on the chronometer read four hours, twelve minutes, and thirty seconds, a tally that Elias Thorne knew to be a lie. He stood at the edge of the Pale Fracture, a jagged tear in the shale of the northern border where the air tasted of ozone and old copper. The Bureau had sent him to document the anomaly, a task that was less about science and more about proving his loyalty to a state...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographMy hand was shaking as I tried to steady the pen, the ink blotting on the form for the second time. The fluorescent light above my desk buzzed, a low, electric drone that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my left palm. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, a Border Patrol agent in the sector of El Paso, and I have spent the last three months trying to convince the department that I am not...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe chisel slips, carving a thin white line into the oak floorboards, and you catch the scent of sawdust mixed with the older, sharper odor of damp rot before you see the dust settle in the shaft of moonlight. Your hand is steady, but your breath is not, for the wind in the hallway has begun its nightly performance, sliding the salt cellar from the mantel to the rug with a soft, deliberate thud...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful DinnerThe deed of sale lay in my palm, the paper brittle as the skin of a dried apple, its edges worn soft by four decades of handling. I held it over the gas stove, the blue flame licking the bottom corner, the heat radiating up through my fingertips, a sharp, stinging warmth that made me flinch. The kitchen was cold, a damp chill that seemed to seep out of the stone walls of the ancestral manor,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DanceThe ink was still wet on the spine of the volume when Elias Thorne felt the temperature drop, a sudden, sharp chill that had nothing to do with the heating system’s failure. He did not look up from the ledger, a massive, leather-bound thing that smelled of dust and old sweat, but his fingers stopped moving. The papers in the open tray before him, a chaotic mess of receipts and memos from the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CipherThe crystal decanter caught the gaslight, refracting a fractured rainbow across the Minister’s velvet waistcoat, but my eyes were fixed on the brooch pinned to his lapel, a jagged shard of black onyx that had once been the center of my father’s estate. It was a piece of the *Lament*, a family heirloom I had sworn to protect before the war drove us from our home, yet here it sat, worn with the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe silver gauntlet sat on the mahogany desk, a cold, heavy thing that seemed to drink the light from the single lamp in the study. Elias Thorne, thirty-four and hollowed out by the Border Wars, traced the tarnished engravings with a thumb that still trembled from old shrapnel. He was not polishing it; he was waiting for it to speak, for the weight in his hand to reveal the debt his father had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThe glass cracked against the granite curb, a sound like a bone snapping under a boot. Elias Thorne stood in the rain, his engineer’s boots sinking into the mud of the courtyard, his fingers wrapped around the jagged shards of the porcelain vial. The liquid inside, a viscous black sludge labeled *Mnemosyne*, had leaked out. It pooled in the grooves of the stone, spreading with a slow,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek