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 ShowThe ledger weighed exactly four pounds and two ounces in my left hand, a weight that felt heavier than iron, while the frost bit into the raw flesh of my right where the shovel had slipped an hour prior. I had counted every page, every line of ink, every signature that bore the seal of Magistrate Halloway, and the arithmetic was cold and absolute: six hundred pounds in debt, a sum that would...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitThe second year of the Great Silence had settled over the Ironwood Keep like a layer of ash, and you stood at the gate, watching Edward Ashworth march away into the fog, his boots crunching on the gravel with a rhythm that felt less like a step and more like a heartbeat fading into distance. You were thirty, a border warden with the calloused hands of a man who had spent a decade holding the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaThe ink was already moving. I watched it creep past the crook of my elbow, a dark vein spreading under the skin of my forearm. It started three days ago, on the night of the riot, when I broke the window of the magistrate’s office to free the men inside. The arrest warrant for my own name had been printed on heavy, blue-tinged paper. When I held it, the wet ink soaked through the paper and into...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe shrapnel had lodged itself in the pressure valve housing like a splinter in a wound, a jagged piece of twisted steel that did not belong to the municipal waterworks but to the war that had been raging for three years, a foreign object that had found its way into the quiet, mechanical heart of our town. I stood before the valve, my hands trembling with a vibration that seemed to originate in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SilenceThorne, stop. The voice was not Sarah’s, though it wore her cadence with a thin, reedy edge that belonged to no one currently alive. It came from the basement, where the humidity hung thick and tasted of wet limestone and old paper. I stood before the metal shelving unit, my hand hovering over the digitizing scanner, the blue light of the machine humming against the silence of the archive. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoThe gear is broken. You see it, Thomas, don’t you? The escape wheel has a tooth missing, clean sheared off as if by a hammer blow, and you are staring at my hands as if I have just admitted to murder. You do not speak. You never speak when the silence gets too thick, but your eyes move from the broken metal to the face of the watch, and that is enough. The watch is dead. It was always dead, in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe iron gate of the Abbey of St. Jude had twelve hinges, and I had counted them every morning for the last three years. Twelve points of rust, twelve points of failure, twelve reasons to believe that the thing would eventually give way. I stood before them now, my knuckles white around the chipped silver key, the metal biting into my palm until the pain was the only thing that felt real. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographThe mug was ceramic, chipped at the rim, and held a liquid that tasted of copper and cold ash. Elias Thorne stared into the brown surface, watching the ripples settle, knowing that this was not coffee. It was the taste of the hospital room where his brother, David, had spent his final weeks, a sensory echo that had haunted Elias for three years since the diagnosis. He was forty-two, a border...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe key bit was jammed. Beatrice Danforth turned the brass cylinder in the lock, her wrist aching from the twelve-hour shift, and felt the mechanism grind against rust that had nothing to do with the weather. It was the smell that hit her first, a thick, medicinal cloy of carbolic acid and damp wool that hung in the corridor of Blackwood Asylum like a physical weight. She shoved the door open....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek