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 Faded ApartmentThe rain in 1942 did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain that turned the iron gates of Blackwood Asylum into a blur of rust and shadow. You stood in the courtyard, the leather of your coat stiff with damp, clutching a letter in your right hand that had been torn from your pocket three days ago, its edges frayed by the anxiety of your fingers. The letter was from a solicitor in Leeds,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AtlasThorne. The name hung in the air, sharp and cold, cutting through the damp silence of the office. I looked up from the drafting table, my hand still hovering over the vellum, a drop of ink trembling on the nib. Mr. Vane stood in the doorway, his shadow falling long across the linoleum floor, which was peeling at the edges near the radiator. "Get up here," he said. His voice was flat, devoid of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe deed lay in your hands, a brittle rectangle of parchment that cost forty pounds to authenticate and nothing to destroy. You held it against your chest in the archive, the paper cold and damp as a dead fish, while Councilman Halloway stood behind you, his tie loosened, his breath smelling of cheap coffee and authority. You wanted to save St. Jude’s Chapel, that crumbling relic of stone and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesThe chisel slipped, biting into the salt vein with a sound like a bone snapping. I wiped the grit from my eyes, the taste of brine sharp on my tongue, and looked up at the Overseer. He stood at the edge of the pit, his coat immaculate against the grey dust, holding the requisition form I had signed that morning. "You are late, Warden," he said. His voice was flat, stripped of anything that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographThe locket burned against Arthur’s sternum like a coal wrapped in velvet, and he pressed his forehead to the cold windowpane to keep from screaming. The glass was gritty with soot from the street below, scratching his skin, and the heat of the metal seeped through his thin shirt, spreading a red flush across his chest. He was thirty years old, a clerk in the accounts department of Halloway &...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe wind off the moor carried the scent of wet iron and old blood, a smell that clung to Elias Thorne’s wool coat as he trudged up the ridge toward the border station. He was thirty-four years old, with hands roughened by years of gripping cold rails and a jaw set in a permanent line of determination that his colleagues often mistook for arrogance. Elias wanted the promotion; he wanted the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MirrorThorne. The name was a blade, sharp and cold, cutting through the humid air of the archive. Elias did not look up from the ledger. His fingers, stained with the acidic bite of old ink, hovered over the page, trembling not from age, but from the specific, grinding weight of a date that refused to stay fixed in his mind. November 14th. Or was it the 15th? The year was 1994, but the numbers swam,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathThe quill was dipped in ink that smelled of iron and old blood, a scent that clung to Thomas Bradshaw’s fingers as he held the parchment steady. It was a small, reed pen, worn thin at the tip, and it trembled slightly in the cold air of the scriptorium. He looked up from the ledger, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the candle, and saw the Chancellor standing in the doorway. The room was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairThe summons lay on the mahogany desk, its seal unbroken, the paper heavy with the specific weight of bureaucratic finality. I, Elias Thorne, Senior Archivist of the Ministry of Antiquities, stared at the wax, red as a fresh wound, knowing that this document did not invite me to a promotion but to a reckoning. I had wanted the Directorship for three years, a title that would bring the salary...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek