0 Reacties
0 aandelen
0 Views
0 voorbeeld
Bedrijvengids
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Wistful WitnessThe chisel had to strike twelve times. That was the count. Twelve strikes to seat the keystone, twelve strikes to seal the gap, twelve strikes to prove that Elias Thorne’s hands, which had trembled since Clara’s coffin went into the earth, were still steady enough to build a thing that would outlast the man who built it. He wiped the dust from his forehead with a forearm that smelled of lime...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Wistful ThroneThe crack in the porcelain was thin as a vein, running from the left cheek down to the chin, and it bled a faint, dry gray dust when Elias touched it with his thumb. “Hold it steady, Arthur,” Elias said, his voice tight, barely above a whisper. He did not look at his father. He looked at the mask. The air in the bedroom smelled of wet wool and old copper, a scent that had settled into the walls...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Pale BonsaiThe cellar is cold enough to crack the stone, and you find the sprout before the candle does. It is pale, thin as a vein, and it grows directly from the ribcage of the skeleton in the corner. You do not scream. You are a monk. You are forty-two years old, and you have spent the last decade learning to hold your breath until the air in your lungs turns to rust. But your hands shake. You touch...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Distant GardenThe resignation letter lay on the Mayor’s desk, a crumpled square of parchment that seemed to absorb the light of the office rather than reflect it. You had written it in a hand that shook only slightly, a tremor born of sixteen years standing watch at the same gate, watching the same faces age and die, watching the same mud dry on the cobblestones of Oakhaven. You wanted out. You wanted the...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Pale EchoThe ink in Elias Thorne’s pen was black, but the seal on the document was a pale, bruised violet that seemed to pulse against the cream of the parchment. He held his breath, the air in the City Records Office thick with the smell of sulfur and old dust, and watched as the mark bloomed across the corner of the disputed will. It was a lie, or rather, the physical evidence of one, for the seal...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Wistful GridThe porcelain locket in my palm is cold, colder than the iron rails that vibrate beneath my boots as I stand on the edge of the Blackwood Pit, watching the steam rise from the ventilation shafts in a grey, suffocating curtain that chokes out the stars. I am thirty-four years old, and the world has narrowed itself to a single, desperate necessity: I must secure the mining lease for the Blackwood...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Golden QuestThe banquet hall of Thorne Manor was a cavern of polished mahogany and heavy velvet, the air thick with the scent of roasted pheasant and the metallic tang of old money, a sensory overload that Elias Thorne endured with the stoic patience of a man watching a storm approach from the safety of a sealed room. At the center of the long table, under the gaze of forty crystal chandeliers, sat the...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 0 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Wistful ShowThe ledger showed three days. Nelson Blackwood checked the numbers again, his finger tracing the ink that smelled of iron and stale wine. He had three days of food, three days of strength, and one river to cross before the magistrate’s men found him. The year was 1342, and the air in the valley of the Aven tasted of ash and wet stone. He was not a man who prayed, but he counted his breaths like...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
-
The Distant BladeThe champagne in the crystal flute felt cold and metallic against my lips, a sharp intrusion in the warm, suffocating air of the banquet hall where the chandeliers burned with a light that seemed less like electricity and more like the trapped souls of the departed. I stood by the head of the table, my hands trembling so violently that the silver knife I held rattled against the plate, a sound...0 Reacties 0 aandelen 1 Views 0 voorbeeld
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek