0 Comments
0 Shares
2 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Wistful MirrorOctober 14th. The rotunda smells of damp wool and burnt sugar. I am twelve years old. I stand in the shadow of the chandelier, watching the Master’s guests laugh. They are fat with prosperity. I am thin with hunger. My name is Elias, but here I am just the boy who serves the wine. I want the ring. I want the title. I want to be the heir. The Master, my uncle, looks at me with eyes like flint....0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JokeThe coal weighed four tons, and my hands had been numb for the last three hours of shoveling. I counted the shovels to keep my mind from drifting back to the station house, where the ink on the sealed letter in my breast pocket felt warm against my skin. It was a heavy warmth, like a coal that had been buried in ash and was still burning. I knew the rules of this strange thing, even if I...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AtlasThe chime rang at eleven. It should have been noon. You heard it before you saw the dust motes dancing in the shaft of light that cut across the workshop floor, a sharp, metallic crack that split the air like a whip. Elias Thorne, forty years old, stood with his hands hovering over the escapement of the town hall’s great clock, the smell of old brass and ozone thick in his throat. He was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ShadowsThe parchment lay on the oak table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the infirmary, bearing the seal of the City Council and a decree that stripped Elias of his title, his practice, and his right to enter the wards. He read it twice, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and vinegar, while the candle in the iron sconce sputtered and cast long, trembling shadows against the stone...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded MasqueradeThe ledger listed forty-three days until the solstice, and Elias Thorne counted the hours in the cold blue light of the cellar. He held the silver astrolabe, the metal biting into his palm, feeling the hairline fracture run from the central pivot to the rim. Twelve years. Twelve years since Lily had taken her last breath in the fever, and twelve years since he had bound the wisp of her soul to...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistThe fog did not roll in so much as it seeped, a cold, damp breath that tasted of iron and old paper, settling over the border post of Kael’s Crossing until the world beyond the window was nothing but a white void. Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and twenty-two of those spent in the grey uniform of the Customs Authority, stood before the heavy oak desk, his hands trembling slightly as he held...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe glass of the bathroom mirror was cold, colder than the winter air that seeped through the cracked seal of the window. Elias Thorne stood before it, his knuckles white as he gripped the sink, watching the reflection of a man who did not exist. In the glass, Elias was older, his face a ruin of hollows and dark circles, his posture broken by a limp that the real Elias did not yet have. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairThe east wing of the Meridian Reinsurance Group does not exist on the floor plans, yet it is where the quarterly risk assessment lives, and you know this because the air there tastes of copper and old dust, a flavor that clings to your teeth long after you have retreated to the safety of the glass-walled conference room. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior actuary whose life has been...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MountainThe foreclosure notice lay on the mahogany desk, its red seal stark against the cream paper, a finality that felt heavier than the deed itself. Elias Thorne, forty-two, a man whose career had crumbled into a heap of unfiled blueprints and unpaid invoices, stared at the date of sale: three days hence. The glass atrium of his late father’s estate, a structure of soaring steel and fractured light...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek