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 Wistful Witness1912, November 4th. The dream was the same as always. My father’s pocket watch lay on the kitchen table, its face cracked, the second hand shivering in the dark. It did not tick. It just trembled, a faint, sick vibration against the wood. I woke with my heart hammering against my ribs, the cold air of the house biting at my skin. I am thirty-four years old. I have served this town for...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet, the paper cheap and fibrous under your fingertips. It was a standard Ministry directive, stamped with the black seal of the Archivist General, but the subject line made the cold air in the room feel suddenly thin. You were Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a senior archivist who had spent the last two decades dusting the dead and filing the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersThe invoice sat on the glass table, its edges sharp against the white surface. I read it twice. The line item for "Neural Pattern Extraction, Phase III" was bolded, the amount obscenely high, and at the bottom, a signature I knew well. Dr. Aris Vane. My hand trembled as I picked up the pen to sign the authorization for the next batch of drugs. I did not sign it. I set the pen down, the click of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe silver ingots did not ring when Elias Thorne struck them with the assayer’s hammer; instead, they hummed, a low and mournful vibration that seemed to rise from the damp stone floor of the Royal Mint in the year of our Lord 1342. Elias, a man of forty years whose hands were permanently stained with the grey dust of lead and tin, held the metal up to the dim light of the oil lamps, watching...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe train hissed against the rails, a metallic scream that cut through the gray morning fog of 1912. Arthur Vane stood in the carriage, his knuckles white around the handle, his eyes fixed on the floor. He was forty years old, a clerk of twelve years in the Ministry of Railways, and he carried a single, impossible object in his breast pocket. It was a dead white lily, its petals brittle and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe eviction notice was yellowed at the edges, the paper brittle as a dried leaf, and it sat on my desk with a weight that had nothing to do with its mass. I had counted the hours since Julian died, three years and four months, and the count had always been a way to keep the silence from swallowing me whole. Now, the silence was being priced, measured in square feet and unpaid taxes, and the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe letter from the Ministry of Finance lay on the desk, the ink still fresh and smelling faintly of iron and damp wool. It was a form, Form 44-B, requesting my final service record for pension calculation, and I had been holding the pen for twenty minutes without writing a single letter. My hand trembled, a fine, persistent vibration that I had learned to hide by keeping my fingers curled...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful GridThe left hand holds a rusted iron key. It is cold, heavy, and it will not turn. I am standing in the mud of the northern gate, and the rain is slicking my uniform. My fingers shake. They have shaken for three days, a low, persistent vibration that rattles against the metal. I am Thomas Bradshaw. I am thirty-two. I am a border guard. I want to keep my post. I want to be here, holding this line,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe count began at dawn, as it always did, with the precise measurement of the seconds that had slipped away. Elias Thorne sat in the blue-grey light of his workshop, his fingers stained with oil and the dark residue of the central city clock’s mainspring, counting the ticks of the small brass pocket watch in his hand. One, two, three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek