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 Distant ClueThe mortar and pestle ground against each other, a rhythmic, wet scraping that echoed in the hollow of Elias Thorne’s skull, louder than the rain lashing the checkpoint’s tin roof, louder than the diesel cough of the generator, a sound that had been grinding in his head for three days straight and would not stop no matter how much he chewed on the antacid tablets Sarah had slipped him in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythThe water in the cellar of Blackwood Manor did not smell of mud, but of iron. Elias Thorne stood waist-deep in the black slurry, the current pulling at his heavy wool trousers with a patient, relentless strength. He clutched the leather-bound ledger to his chest, his knuckles white, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps that rattled deep in his lungs. It was November of 1893, and the Friday...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe cold in the office was a physical weight, a damp thing that settled into the joints and stayed. "Elias. Look at me. Stop looking at the pot." Director Vane’s voice was low, clipped, and utterly devoid of warmth. He stood by the windowless wall, his back to the light, a silhouette of expensive wool and absolute authority. I was twelve years old, sitting at the desk that my father had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful Grid14th November, 1892. The wind in the highlands does not blow so much as it presses, a physical weight against the chest that makes the lungs ache with the effort of drawing air. I have spent the last three nights on the roof of the new chapel, laying the slate for the apse, my fingers raw and split from the cold and the friction of the stone. The debt is four pounds, a sum that should be...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful WitnessThe ledger showed three hundred and twelve pounds owed, a sum that had not existed six hours prior. Elias Thorne ran his thumb over the cold, wet stone of the barracks wall, feeling the dampness seep into the skin of his hand like a slow, gray stain. He was a Sergeant of the Guard, thirty-two years old, and his hands were trembling, not from the biting cold of the 1893 winter, but from the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale FractureThe parchment was thin, translucent enough to see the grain of the oak table beneath it, and the ink was still wet, glistening like a fresh wound. It was a writ of forfeiture, stamped with the red wax of the High Chancellor, declaring my authority void and my daughter’s debt absolute. I held it up to the light, watching the dust motes dance in the beam, and felt the cold weight of the obsidian...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant Summer"You’re late." The steward’s voice cut through the humid air of the workshop. I was still wiping the acid off the copper plate, my hands trembling so badly the rag slipped into the drain. It was the summer solstice. The sun was high enough to bleach the dust motes dancing in the beam that fell from the high window. I looked at the clock. Two minutes past noon. The Duke’s commission was due....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden GreenhouseThe letter from the bank was thin, cream-colored, and smelled of stale dust. It stated, in the precise, unfeeling hand of a clerk, that the account of the Whitmore estate had been suspended pending a review of irregularities. I held the paper up to the window light of my small office, watching the fibers catch the grey afternoon air. Thirty-two years old, and I was already an archivist of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe memo was thin, cream-colored paper that felt slick between your fingers. It listed the quarterly funding report for Blackwood Asylum. You signed it with a steady hand, the ink drying before you even lifted the pen. Your promotion to Senior Inspector was contingent on one thing: the stabilization of Patient Zero, known in the files as the Mad King. The building was old, stone laid in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek