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 Faded PhotographThe light was low and grey when the summons came, a flat piece of paper sliding under the door of your bunk. Thomas. Report to the Office. Do not be late. You were thirty-two years old, and the weight of that number sat heavy in your chest, a stone you had carried for a decade. You wanted the permanent post. You wanted the security. But the new classification protocol, the rigid grid of data...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingThe ledger showed four hundred and twelve hours worked by Elias Thorne in the last quarter, a number that felt heavy in his hand like a bag of wet coal, and he knew that if the Overseer saw the discrepancy in the steam output, Elias would be back to the casual line with no pension and no future for his daughter, Clara. He adjusted the figures, smearing the ink until the efficiency ratio looked...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden GreenhouseThe invoice for the structural integrity audit of the Whitmore Estate arrived on a Tuesday, printed on heavy, cream-colored stock that felt damp against Elias’s fingers. It listed three hundred and twelve line items: the calibration of the thermal regulators in the east wing, the replacement of the biometric locks on the nursery, and the routine defragmentation of the family memory banks....0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the courtyard of the Abbey of St. Jude into a muddy churn, and I sat in the Abbot’s study with my right hand resting on the oak table, watching the black fluid seep from the pores of my palm like oil from a cracked engine. Abbot Thomas, a man whose face had long since ceased to display anything other than a rigid,...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant Joke"Come here, Elias. Come here, you stubborn, bleeding fool." The voice did not come from the alchemist’s mouth but from the iron-studded door, vibrating through the linoleum floor and up into the soles of your boots as you stood in the center of the workshop, the air thick with the smell of sulfur and old pennies, a scent that had seeped into the very wallpaper of this valley for so long that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe mud in the valley of Aethelgard did not dry; it fermented. It was a thick, black slurry that swallowed boots and swallowed men alike, a physical manifestation of the rot that had settled into the bones of the village. Kaelen Ashworth, a warden of the local militia and a man whose face had been carved by thirty years of squinting into fog, stood at the edge of the tree line, his breath...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CartographThe box was heavy, smelling of dust and old varnish, and Elias held it with a grip that whitened his knuckles. He was thirty-four, a junior clerk in the county survey office, and he was leaving. The transfer papers were already signed, the ink dry, a small black fact that anchored him to a life in the city that would fund Mara’s care. She was twenty-two, sick in a way the doctors in this town...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden SuspectElias. The name hung in the damp air of the basement, spoken by no one, yet felt in the hollow of his throat. It was a summons, sharp and specific, pulling him back from the edge of the ledger where the ink had begun to bleed. He was forty-two, an archivist of minor municipal records, and for the past three months he had lived beneath the street level of the city, in a windowless room that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AsylumThorne. The name hung in the air, heavy and wet, like a dropped tool. You did not look up. You kept your wrench on the valve stem, feeling the vibration travel up your arm, into your shoulder, settling in the teeth. That low-frequency hum. It had been there for three weeks, a persistent thrum that only you could hear. It lived in the walls of Blackwood Psychiatric Institute, a building of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek