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 Golden CircuitThe brass caliper felt cold in my hand, the metal biting into the callus of my thumb as I measured the width of the vein. It was three millimeters wide, pulsing with a faint, rhythmic light that matched the beat of my own heart. I set the caliper down on the mossy ground, the sound of its hinge clicking shut sharp against the silence of the pine forest. This is not a story of magic, Dr. Aris,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ApartmentThe ink on the ledger was still damp when I pressed my thumb against the page, a dark smear blooming across the accounting for the northern railway contracts, and the cold of the marble floor seeped through the soles of my boots, a chill that felt less like temperature and more like the absence of air. I stood in the Grand Hall of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the space vast and echoing,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ShowThe dismissal order was printed on heavy, cream-colored stock, the kind of paper that felt substantial in the hand, like a banknote or a deed. Elias Thorne read the letter twice, his fingers trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer, bureaucratic finality of the ink. He signed where the line indicated, the scratch of his pen loud in the silence of the patrol hut, and then he placed the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe shawl was heavy, a thick weave of undyed wool that smelled of lanolin and old dust, and Elias Thorne held it in his hands as if it were a piece of raw meat, feeling the weight of it settle into his palms before he even stepped off the train. It was November in Oakhaven, 1912, and the air carried the metallic taste of coal smoke that hung low over the rooftops, a grey blanket that suffocated...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RootThe dream is always the same: a root, black as dried blood, splitting the earth from within, rotting until the soil itself turns to dust. I wake with my hands clenched, the phantom sensation of wet, decaying wood still clinging to my palms. It is the fourteenth of October, in the year of our Lord 1420, and the air in my cell is thick with the damp smell of the cellar. I am Elias, a healer of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe steam from the radiator hissed in a low, continuous whine that seemed to vibrate through the bones of the station, a sound that Elias Thorne had grown so accustomed to over the last twenty-eight years that it had become indistinguishable from the rhythm of his own failing heart. He stood before the single, grime-streaked windowpane of the remote mountain outpost, watching the frost creep...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ApartmentThe hum was in his molars, a vibration that had lived behind his eyes for twenty years, but it was the word "Thorne" that finally pulled him from the dark of the stairwell. "Thorne." The voice was Gable’s, thin and dry as the dust on the railing. "You are late. Again." Elias straightened his spine, feeling the ache in his lower back radiate up to his neck. He was forty-two, but his joints moved...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RootThe crack splits your father’s temple before the scream does. It is a black fissure, jagged and deep, running from his hairline to his jaw. He does not bleed. He only looks at you, his eyes wide and wet, and his mouth opens in a silent O. The sound that comes out is not a word. It is a wet, tearing noise, like wet paper being ripped apart. You drop the folder of paperwork on the kitchen table....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RoadThe letter lay on the kitchen table, its edges curling slightly in the dry air, the ink of the bank manager’s signature still fresh and black against the cream stock. Elias Thorne stared at the document, his thumb hovering over the bolded clause that designated Julian as the sole legal representative for the transfer of real property, a bureaucratic weight that pressed down on his chest before...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek