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 CrownThe brass gear lay on the workbench, cold and unpolished, a tooth missing from its circumference like a broken jaw. Elias Thorne stared at it, his fingers hovering over the metal, trembling not from cold but from the sudden, crushing weight of a decision that had been forming for three weeks in the silence of his mind. He was forty-five, a master clockmaker in Oakhaven, a town that smelled of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrequencyThe brass casing was cold, colder than the basement stone beneath my feet. I held it tight, the weight of it a familiar anchor in the dark. The hum was there, a low, thrumming vibration that I felt in my teeth. It was not the voice of my mother, not truly, but the sound of the machine straining against the silence. I had come to believe it was a frequency only I could hear. A thread connecting...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant TempleThe ledger weighed four pounds, two ounces, and the smell of wet iron. Elias Thorne, municipal assessor for the last fourteen years, counted the entries with a ruler, his knuckles white against the cold oak of his desk. He was forty years old, a man of precise measurements, and the pension he sought hinged on the condemnation of the Mill District. The district was a blight, a rusted jaw of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe ink was black, but it moved like oil on water, swirling with a viscosity that defied the cold. Elara held her breath, her fingers stained to the second knuckle, as the quill touched the vellum. The scriptorium of Blackwood Manor smelled of damp stone and the metallic tang of old blood, a scent that had settled into her pores over twelve years of service. She was thirty-two, a woman whose...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe dream was always the same, a relentless unfolding of parchment skin that breathed and shifted under the weight of ink that had no source, and Elias Thorne woke with the taste of dried blood in his mouth and the sensation of script crawling beneath his own epidermis, a forty-five-year-old border warden with twenty years of service who wanted nothing more than to secure his pension by proving...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe frost had not yet melted from the flagstones when I climbed the last spiral step of the Watchtower, my breath hanging in the air like a ghost refusing to dissipate. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years of age, and for the past decade I have served as the border warden of Oakhaven, a valley so ancient and shrouded in mist that the cartographers of the lowlands refuse to mark it. My desire is...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrequencyThe rain fell in sheets that night, turning the cobblestones of Oakhaven into slick, black mirrors. I sat by the cold hearth of my cottage, listening to the wind rattle the shutters. My hands trembled as I wrote this, the ink blurring on the page. I am Thomas Hale, a constable of thirty-two years, and I am writing to record the end of my life and the beginning of a silence that will outlast us...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusThe sourdough starter known as "The Mother" sat in a glass crock on the counter of Harrow’s Bakery, bubbling with a rhythmic, wet vitality that seemed to pulse in time with the town’s collective anxiety. I watched it rise and fall, the surface of the dough stretching and contracting like the skin of a lung, while Mr. Ashworth, the headmaster of the Oakhaven Academy and the de facto moral...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe mist in the valley of Aethelgard did not rise; it breathed, a low, golden resonance that hummed against the teeth and settled in the marrow. Captain Elias Thorne laughed, a sound too bright and sharp for the grave duty of the border guard, as he watched his subordinate, Kael, struggle with the heavy pack of supplies. "You look like a man carrying a corpse, Kael," Elias said, his grin wide...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek