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 Golden DowntownThe candle flame did not flicker, it hovered, a steady, unnatural blue that cast no shadows on the walls of the workshop. I was forty years old, and my hands, once steady enough to thread a needle with a spool of gold leaf, now trembled against the cold iron of the engraving tool. The commission for St. Jude’s Cathedral was due in three days, a contract that was the only thing standing between...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythThe cellar smelled of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood, a scent that had long since permeated the very stones of the Guild’s archive where Master Aldric kept the records of purity. He stood before the shelf, his hands trembling not with age, but with a sudden, violent nausea that rose from his stomach to his throat, and in the flickering light of a single tallow candle, he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe bill was for forty-two dollars and twelve cents. It was a dry cleaning receipt, dated three days before Julian Thorne died, and it was the only document Elias had found in the estate that wasn’t a debt notice or a foreclosure warning. He held the paper up to the window of the rooming house where he was staying. The rain on the glass made the ink bleed slightly, turning the sharp black...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe Ministry of Memory did not smell of dust, as one might expect of an archive, but of ozone and wet slate, a scent that clung to the wool of my coat and the lining of my eyelids. I was thirty-two, a Senior Archivist, and I had spent the last five years ensuring that the records of the dead were not merely accurate, but perfectly, surgically silent where they needed to be. My sister, Clara,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe ledger weighed four pounds, twelve ounces, and a secret that had been growing for thirty years. You held it in your lap, the leather cover cool and damp against your knees, while the clock on the wall ticked with the steady, indifferent rhythm of a factory metronome. It was November, 1912, and the air in the archive smelled of dust, dried ink, and the stale tobacco smoke that clung to the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DanceThe ink on the page was dry, but the air in the reading room was not. Elias Thorne adjusted his spectacles, the wire rims digging into the bridge of his nose, and stared at the marginalia. The script was cramped, angular, and unmistakably his own. It read: *Negligence. Termination effective immediately.* He blinked, waiting for the blur to resolve into the standard, faded brown of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale VerdictThe ink was wet. It should not have been wet. The ledger was from 1998, a brittle thing of acid-free paper and faded blue carbon copy, resting on the steel table of the National Records Office. Elias Thorne held the magnifying glass steady, his breath held in his chest, watching the fibers swell. "You’re seeing things, Elias," Halloway said from the doorway. His voice was flat, bureaucratic, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeThe champagne was cold in my glass, the bubbles dead and flat, but the firm was alive. We were celebrating the acquisition of the St. Jude Medical Group, a sprawling complex of glass and steel that smelled of ozone and old money. I stood near the wet bar, watching the steam rise from the ice, my fingers white-knuckled around the crystal. I was thirty-four, a senior architect, and I had one week...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ShieldThe shield hung above the hearth, its surface dull with the patina of decades. William Ashworth had not looked directly at it in seven years—not since the morning he found his father's letter tucked behind the brass, the ink bleeded by rain that seeped through the attic roof. It was a small thing, that shield, no larger than a dinner plate, stamped with a crest so eroded the lion at its centre...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek