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 Pale TaleChapter One "NOTICE: Hydroponic Bay 4, Cycle 12. Frost damage reported. Yield adjusted. Ration Chit B-704 voided pending audit." Tariq Saleh woke with the taste of cold water on his tongue, the recurring dream of the cracked mirror still hovering in the dark behind his eyelids, a fracture line splitting his own face into two identical, terrified halves. He lay in the narrow cot of his quarters,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ParadoxThe parchment was heavy, its edges curled with the humidity of the cellar where it had been stored, and Inspector Elias Thorne held it with a grip that whitened his knuckles, the weight of the paper a physical burden against the trembling of his hand. It was a letter, sealed with the black wax of the Magistrate’s office, and the ink within was still wet, glistening under the dim light of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe rain streaks the glass of the carriage, blurring the gray fields of Oakhaven into a smear of mud and slate. You sit with your hands clasped over the leather case, the wood cool and hard against your palms. Inside is the bonsai, a twisted trunk of white bark, leaves the color of old ash. It is a symbol of your father’s control, a thing pruned and shaped by his will until it resembled a cage...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaAct I Varennes was a city built on the back of a lie, and the lie smelled of wet oak and rotting acorns. Alphonse Vidrine stepped off the stagecoach at first light, the mud sucking at his boots with a sound that felt personal, while Elise held her shawl tighter against the chill that had settled into her bones since they left the river camps. They were here for the university, or rather, for...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitThe quill scraped against the parchment with a sound like a dry twig snapping, the ink bleeding slightly into the coarse fiber of the paper as Sir Elias Thorne’s hand trembled, not from the cold that seeped through the stone floor of the guard’s alcove, but from the weight of the secret he had carried for three years. He looked down at the ledger page he had copied, the numbers stark and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageThe hydraulic seal on the north piling gave way with a sound like a gunshot, and then the world simply dropped, the weight of two hundred tons of concrete and steel shifting from the riverbed to the air, and I was standing on the deck, my hand still resting on the cold iron railing, watching the span that I had signed off on, the bridge that was supposed to hold for fifty years, snap in half...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorChapter One Kavita Khan remembered the weight of the forged papers in her hand, a heavy, damp thing that smelled of iron and old rot, as she stood before the warden’s desk. It was a memory that had no exit, a loop of shame that played out every time she closed her eyes, though her mind was currently fixed on the present, on the rain hammering the windowpane of the bedsit where she sat alone....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseThe fog in Blackwood was not a weather phenomenon; it was a presence. It pressed against the constable’s coat, damp and cold, erasing the edges of the village until the world was reduced to a gray, breathing void. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the main road, his hand deep in his pocket, fingers curled around the cold, cracked silver of his father’s signet ring. He had come to find Arthur...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendThe mud of the Somme did not merely cover the earth in the autumn of 1918; it consumed it, a thick, viscous grave that swallowed the boots of the living and the bones of the dead with equal indifference. Professor Elias Thorne stood at the edge of a crater, his knees sinking into the slurry, clutching a map that was more wet pulp than paper, its ink running in black rivers that obscured the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek