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 Golden CrossingThe bill was thin, translucent as onion skin, and it smelled of the antiseptic that clung to the city’s wet bones. I held it up to the grey light filtering through the window of my room in the slum, the paper trembling slightly in a hand that no longer felt entirely mine. The total was forty-two guineas, a sum that would have broken a man with two working limbs and a clear conscience, but for...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThorne. The name was spoken by the junior clerk, Silas, with the flat, procedural tone of a man reading a serial number off a crate. It cut through the hum of the cooling fans in the subterranean archives, a place where the air tasted of ozone and stale coffee. Elias Thorne did not look up from the terminal. His fingers, thick-knuckled and scarred from a life before the desk, hovered over the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeI woke with the taste of gravel in my mouth, a gritty, metallic residue that coated my tongue and lingered long after I had spit into the sterile, white sink of the county asylum’s visitor’s wing, staring at my own face in the cracked mirror which seemed to distort the hollows under my eyes until I looked less like a man of forty-two and more like a scarecrow stitched together from rags and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MachineOctober 14, 2023 You are smiling because if you stop smiling, your hands will shake, and if your hands shake, the ink will bleed, and if the ink bleeds, the argument for your promotion will look like a weeping child rather than the cold, precise steel that the committee expects, so you write, with a lightness that feels like a joke, that the medieval kings were all idiots, stupid little men in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CipherThe name "Elias" hung in the air, heavy and accusatory, before the voice even finished forming. "Get up, Elias. You are blocking the intake." Elias did not get up. He shifted his weight, the takeout container under his hip shifting with a wet, plastic creak. The apartment was a mess of paper, a chaotic feast of scattered documents and cold lo mein that smelled of stale soy and dust. He was...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ProtocolThe count was always the same: forty-two years of service, sixteen winters of coughing, and a ledger that weighed three pounds on the desk. Elias Thorne sat in the quiet of the Blackwood outpost, the steam from his tea rising in thin, grey ribbons that dissolved before they reached the ceiling. He wanted a quiet retirement. He wanted Julian, his son, to be moved to the city where the air was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant SummerThe shelf collapsed with a sound like a gunshot, sending the bound volume of the central ledger spinning into the dust. Elias Vane stood frozen, his hands still raised as if he had been the one to strike it, while the pages fanned out across the floor of the St. Jude’s Municipal Library like the feathers of a broken bird. He was twenty-four, a junior archivist with ink-stained fingers and a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SongThe rain had turned the border mud into a sucking, black paste that clawed at Elias Thorne’s boots as he fled, his lungs burning with the effort of keeping his breath steady and silent. He was thirty-two years old, a sergeant who had bled for the Crown in ten years of skirmishes, yet here he was, running like a common rat through the woods, clutching the silver circlet of Lady Elara to his...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe ledger of the city’s history was not a book, but a weight. You counted the hours in the archive basement, measuring the decay of the vellum against the tick of the clock, knowing that every minute you spent verifying the provenance of the 1920 Charter was a minute stolen from your own life. Elias Thorne, forty-two, city archivist, stood before the reading table, his fingers hovering over...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek