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 Golden OathThe dream was always the same: a field of white mist, and in the center of it, his brother Cillian standing with his back turned, the sound of a blade striking bone echoing like a bell. Sir Eamon woke with a gasp, the sweat cooling rapidly on his skin in the drafty stone chamber. He reached up to touch the band of gold fused to his forehead, and the metal seared his flesh, a hot, living pain...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe name Elias Thorne hung in the damp air of the workshop, called out not by a voice but by the settling of the building itself, a groan of timber that sounded suspiciously like a summons. Elias stood before the workbench, his hands raw and red from scrubbing at the chisels, watching the golden fuzz spread across the steel like a frost that had forgotten how to melt. He was thirty-two years...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MirrorThe rain lashed against the high, arched windows of the Whitmore Institute for Antiquities, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to echo the violent, unbidden tremors in Elias Thorne’s hands. At fifty-two, Elias was an archivist of considerable renown, a man who had spent three decades cataloging the silence of dead civilizations, yet his own body was beginning to fail him with the same indifference...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe wind did not howl; it cut. It sliced through the gaps in the chain-link fence of the Blackwood Penitentiary yard, carrying the scent of rust and frozen mud into the lungs of Elias Thorne. He stood alone in the center of the concrete expanse, his breath pluming in thick, white clouds that dissipated instantly against the gray sky. At forty-two, Elias was a senior corrections officer, a man...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe apple was soft, bruised a deep purple-black, and it smelled of wet earth and copper. Elias Vance sat on the edge of his cot in the white-walled dormitory of the State Correctional for Juvenile Deviants, holding the fruit against his chest where his skin had become faintly translucent. The light from the overhead fluorescents passed through him, revealing the dark, pulsing knot of the wound...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe shadows in the St. Jude’s Municipal Library do not move when you move; they move three seconds later, a lagging echo that the senior staff dismisses as a trick of the afternoon light filtering through the high, stained-glass windows, but I have spent the last six months watching my own silhouette detach from my heels and hesitate where I do not, a ghostly duplication of my indecision that...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CartographThe atrium of the Meridian Tower was a cathedral of glass and steel, a sealed throat of the city that Elias Thorne had helped to design, and he stood at its base with his lungs burning as if they were filled with crushed glass, the air too thin to sustain the fifty-two-year-old engineer whose body was failing faster than his pride. Sarah, his junior partner, stood ten feet away, her heels...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden Scar"Put the crate down, Sergeant. Now." The voice came from the shadow of the vestibule, low and wet, like a stone dragged through mud. Elias Thorne did not move. His knuckles were white around the handle of the wooden box, the wood splintered and rough under his palms. The train groaned, a deep, metallic shudder that traveled up through the soles of his boots. He was thirty years old, a man who...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe window was cracked. Not broken, but forced. A wedge of pine had jammed the latch for three days. It was enough. It was the only thing keeping the wind out. The wind was loud today. It screamed against the glass like a living thing. It wanted in. It always wanted in. Elias sat on the floor. His back was against the radiator. It was cold. The heat had been off for a week. The building was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek