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 MirrorThorne. The word hung in the damp air of the basement, sharp and singular, cut by the heavy breathing of the man on the other side of the iron desk. Elias Thorne looked up from his hands, which were stained with the grey dust of the floor tiles, and met the eyes of Director Halloway. The light in the room was sickly, a yellowish smear from a single bulb that buzzed like a trapped fly, casting...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful LetterMarch 14 The rain in Oakhaven does not fall; it hangs. It is a particulate suspension of gray water that coats the lungs and settles into the crevices of the skin, a constant, damp pressure that feels less like weather and more like a verdict. You are here to secure the lease on your father’s estate, a decaying Victorian structure that is technically yours by right of inheritance but...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe fog did not roll in; it bit. It clung to my coat like wet ash, whispering names I had buried three years ago. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-four, a city marshal in a metropolis where the air has teeth and the streets remember every lie told upon them. My duty is to keep the peace, but the peace here is a thin veneer over a pit of rot. I want my name back. I want the ghost who framed me for...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythThe rain in Salford did not wash the city clean; it merely pressed the soot deeper into the pores of the brick, creating a damp, grey paste that clung to the skin and settled in the lungs of every soul who breathed the industrial air. Elias Thorne stood in the center of his small, cold sitting room, the silence of the house pressing against his eardrums like a physical weight, and watched the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ExileThe ledger was open on the desk, its leather cover cracked and soft from years of handling, and Elias Thorne counted the hours until dawn with the same grim precision he had once used to count ammunition for the border patrol. It was the first day of his exile, a designation that the military had preferred to "temporary reassignment to a non-commissioned observation post," but the reality was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitMarch 12, 2024 The hotel room in Geneva smells of industrial lemon and stale carpet. It is a sterile white box, the kind of place designed to make you feel small and efficient. I am sitting on the edge of the bed, typing this on a laptop that costs more than my first car, watching the cursor blink like a heartbeat I cannot feel. Mara, I am writing to you because I am close. The board has frozen...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldThe mist in the valley of Aethelgard did not lift; it thickened, pressing against the stone walls of the watchtower like a living thing. Kael woke with a gasp, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of a sword that was no longer there, only the cold iron of his shield resting against the floorboards. He looked down, and the breath left his lungs. White veins of fungus, pale and pulsing, had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe nib of the quill scratches against the vellum, a sound like a dry bone dragging across stone, and you do not look up. You are Brother Thomas, forty years old, and your hands are steady enough to bind a page, though they tremble when the ink stops moving. The scriptorium of the Abbey of St. Jude smells of lamp oil and damp wool, a thick, suffocating scent that clings to the back of your...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe cellar door was stuck again, wedged tight in its frame by the damp. "Pull, Silas. Pull." The voice came from the shadows above, low and grating, like a file on rust. Silas did not answer. He braced his boots against the cold stone floor, his fingers white-knuckled on the iron ring. The wood groaned, a deep, arterial sound that vibrated through his shins. He was a man of the law, a constable...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek