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 DinnerThe buyer stood in the doorway, blocking the morning light. "You have the load ready?" he asked. His voice was like dry leaves scraping over stone. I nodded, my hand still resting on the saw handle. The wood smelled of sap and old iron, a sharp, biting scent that filled my lungs before I could even turn my head. My name is Elias. I am forty-two years old, and I own a mill on the edge of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe light was failing, the way it does in late November when the sun refuses to clear the eaves, and you stood before the ledger, your finger tracing the ink as if it were a vein in a dead hand, while the silence in the office grew thick enough to choke on. You had wanted the Senior Auditor post for three years, a want that had calcified into a necessity, a brick in the foundation of the life...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale Protocol1342, October 14th. The frost has not yet touched the glass of my window, but the cold is already in the bones of the tower. I am Elias, forty-two years old, and for twenty years I have served as the Court’s Pale Reader. My duty is singular and terrible: I see the color of a man’s impending death. It is a gift that costs a day of my memory for every use. I have traded my childhood for my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe ledger lay open on my desk, its spine cracked and soft as old bread. I ran my thumb over the entry for November: *Provisions, General Ward. £450.* The ink was fresh, a blue so dark it looked like a bruise. I had been staring at that number for an hour, my heart hammering against my ribs like a bird trapped in a cage of bone. My name is Arthur. I am forty-two years old, and I have served the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant CartographThe chandelier in the Ashworth ballroom held three hundred candles, each flame trembling slightly in the draft that seeped from the high, arched windows. Arthur stood in the center of the floor, his twelve-year-old frame rigid beneath a suit that was slightly too large in the shoulders, his eyes fixed not on the dancing guests but on the massive wooden model of the St. Jude’s Bridge that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThe paper was thin, the ink still wet, smelling of iron and regret. Elias read the list of ingredients for the forty-third attempt at the elixir, his eyes tracing the precise measurements of dried foxglove, crushed pearl, and the distilled essence of moonflower. He signed the requisition form, the scratch of his pen loud in the sterile silence of the apothecary. The room was cold, a temperature...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe ledger was cold in my hands, heavier than paper should be. It smelled of wet stone and old copper, the scent that clings to the walls of Blackwood Asylum where the damp eats through the plaster. I was Elias, thirty-two, a junior archivist with ink-stained fingers and a debt to pay. My brother, Thomas, had vanished three months prior, leaving behind a trail of unpaid bills and a reputation...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraThe rain hammered against the high, narrow windows of the loom room, a relentless drumming that vibrated through the floorboards and into the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots. He stood before the massive frame of his grand loom, his hands stained with indigo and sweat, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old wood. The commission for Lord Blackwood was due at dawn, a tapestry of such...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThorne. The name was not shouted, but it hung in the air of the customs house with the weight of a dropped iron gate, a sound that seemed to scrape against the linoleum floor where I stood, clutching the small glass vial in my sweating palm. I was forty-two years old, a man who had spent twenty years measuring the weight of other people’s secrets, and I had come here to weigh my own, to lay the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek