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 vial in your hands is cold, colder than the iron railing of the pier, and it hums with a vibration that you feel in your teeth before you hear it. It is a small glass cylinder, stoppered with cork, containing a liquid that is not quite gold but has the weight and viscosity of molten metal. You have been standing here for three hours, watching the fog roll off the black water of the River...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe hand of Director Halloway trembled, not from age, but from the specific, cold fury of a man whose inventory had been breached, and he slammed a manila folder onto the scarred oak desk, sending a cloud of dust and dried tea leaves into the stagnant air of the archive room. Elias Thorne sat opposite, his fingers laced tightly in his lap, watching the dust motes dance in the single shaft of...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful GridMarch 14, 1912 The coughing has started again, a wet, rattling sound that seems to shake the very bones of the house. I am thirty-two years old, sitting in the chair by the bed, and I want nothing more than to keep my mother’s mind clear until the doctor arrives, but the fits have grown so violent she is spitting blood onto the white sheets. I tell myself it is just a bad winter, a temporary...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful DinnerThe audit clock on the wall of the Meridian Institute lobby ticked with the heavy, mechanical precision of a debt collector. Elias Thorne counted the seconds until his access badge would expire, four hundred and twelve ticks in total, a number that felt less like time and more like a weight pressing against his sternum. He stood in the center of the lobby, a space so sterile it seemed to have...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe letter lay on the mahogany table, its edges crisp, the ink a dry, bureaucratic black that smelled faintly of iron. Elias Thorne, Commander of the Northern Sector, did not look at it immediately; instead, he watched the iron gate of the headquarters through the floor-to-ceiling window, a monolithic slab of rusted metal that had stood in the center of the plaza for a hundred years,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverThe parchment was heavy, stained at the edges with the damp of the cellar where it had been kept for three years, and the ink had faded to the color of dried blood. Aldric held it in his gloved hands, the leather creaking softly in the heat of the throne room, while the Midsummer Feast roared around him in a tide of clinking silver and roasted meat. He was thirty years old, a man whose life was...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded GuestThe tin held three spoons of dried root. Elias counted them, one by one, tapping the metal against the rim of his iron cup. One spoon. Two spoons. Three. The sound was a dry, rhythmic click, the only music in the cell. He knew the weight of it, the specific gravity of the bitterness that lived in those dark, twisted fibers. It was the taste of the moor after a storm, the taste of their mother’s...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustElara. The name came from the valley floor, not from a person, but from the fog itself, a low, wet exhalation that curled around her ankles like a stray dog. It was the third night in a row. She had been digging since the sun dropped below the ridgeline, her fingers black with soil that smelled of iron and old blood. The air in the hollows of the Appalachian range was thick, a physical weight...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe invoice lay on the kitchen table, its corners curling slightly in the damp air. Elias Thorne held it between his thumb and forefinger, the paper thin as onion skin, the numbers in bold black ink staring back at him. It was a simple document, a record of a transaction for office supplies that had never occurred, yet the weight of it pressed against his palm like a hot coal. Outside, the wind...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek