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 Faded ChronicleThe brass buckle of his service belt caught the weak afternoon light, a small, dull gleam against the dark wool of his trousers. Elias Thorne stood at the muddy edge of the river crossing, his thumb rubbing the worn leather until the skin felt raw and hot. He wanted one clean arrest, a final line drawn in the ledger before the mandatory retirement took effect in three days, a way to prove to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageOctober 14, 0400 hours. The rain has not stopped for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turns the forest floor into a slick of mud and rot. I am Elias Thorne, Senior Border Patrol Officer, and I am writing this by the light of a dying flashlight, my hands trembling so violently that the stylus scratches erratic lines into the wet paper of my logbook. I need to secure my pension before...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe year was 1240, and the wind that screamed through the broken ribs of the Abbey of St. Jude carried the scent of ozone and wet rot, a perfume that clung to Sir Aldric’s cloak like a second skin. He stood at the threshold of the nave, his hand resting on the pommel of a sword that felt heavier with every step, driven by a desperate, hollow need to retrieve the shattered fragments of the Pale...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrequencyThe brass key felt cold and slick in Elias Thorne’s palm, its surface pitted with decades of sweat and rust, a small, heavy thing that held the weight of the next twenty years in its grooves. He turned it in the lock of the watchtower’s main door, the mechanism grinding with a protest that felt less like metal on metal and more like a bone cracking under pressure, before the heavy oak swung...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale ExileThorne, stop that. The voice cut through the fog like a blade through wet wool, and I looked up from the ledger, my pen still hovering over the inkwell, the black liquid trembling in the reservoir. It was Silas, standing in the doorway of the patrol station, his coat heavy with the damp of the evening, his face a mask of stern concern that I had worn myself a dozen times. He wanted to know why...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe mud at the Somme did not care about rank, nor did it care about the name stitched into a collar. It was a thick, sucking brown that pulled at boots and swallowed the light of the afternoon. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the crater, his rifle slung low, staring at the hole where the earth had been torn open by a shell. He was looking for a button. Not any button, but a brass one, tarnished...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustElias counted the hours. Twelve since the seal was broken. Twelve since the static began to hum in his molars. He sat at the heavy oak desk in the vault, the air thick and cold against his skin, the only light coming from a single tallow candle that flickered with a low, electrical sputter. Before him lay the tools of his trade: a pair of silver tweezers, a drop of clear resin, a magnifying...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe winter of 1348 pressed against the shutters of my small, rented room in the lower city, a cold so biting it felt less like weather and more like a verdict, and I woke once again from the dream of the ancestral keep, that vast and silent stone structure that has stood empty since my father’s exile, its turrets piercing the grey sky like accusatory fingers. I am Elias, a scribe of forty...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe brass key was cold in Elias’s palm, its teeth biting into the skin of his thumb. He stood in the basement corridor of the university library, the fluorescent lights humming a low, sick note that seemed to vibrate in his teeth. The air here was stale, smelling of damp concrete and old paper, a smell that usually comforted him but now felt like a threat. He looked at the door marked...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek