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 PortraitThe dream was always the same. A golden apple, skin taut and glowing, resting on a bed of cold stone. Aldric bit into it. The flesh was sweet, but the juice tasted of iron and ash. He woke with his mouth full of blood and the taste of rust clinging to his tongue. The mist outside the window of his cell was thick, a grey shroud that swallowed the estate of Blackwood whole. He looked at his...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DoorThe ink was still wet on the ledger page when I tore it free, the sound like a dry leaf snapping under a boot. I was thirty-two years old, a constable in Oakhaven, and I had just stolen the proof that Mayor Halloway had signed the death warrants of three men. The town called him a saint, a man of iron will and gentle spirit, but I knew he was a coward who traded in human lives to keep the coal...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterThe mortar was stone, cold and unyielding, and the vial in Silas’s hand trembled with a violence that matched his pulse. "Crush it, Thomas," Silas hissed, his eyes darting to the cellar door as if the Duke’s men were already picking the lock. "Now. Before it cools." The boy, pale and shaking, looked at the liquid inside. It was not water, nor wine, nor oil. It was a pale, viscous moonlight,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairThe letter arrived on a Tuesday, slipped under the heavy oak door of the study like a pale, dead fish, and it was not until the ink of the date, the fourteenth of November, had dried on the crisp white paper that Elias Vane realized the world had ended not with a bang but with a bureaucratic shrug. He sat in the high-backed chair that had belonged to his father, and before him lay the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TaleThe ledger sat on the desk, its spine cracked like old bone, and Ryke Brandt knew, with the dull certainty of a man who has waited too long, that the ink was moving. He stood in the reclamation yard, the air heavy with rusted iron and dry sage, watching the sun dip below the jagged rocks that framed the valley like a broken jaw. It was the year 1912, and he was thirty-four, a border guard with...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WoundThe salt pans stretched to the horizon, a grid of white squares where the sun boiled the sea into powder. Men in wide-brimmed hats moved in silent rows, raking the crystals into piles that glinted like broken teeth. Amparo Guzmán watched them from the doorway of her workshop, her hand resting on the cool brass of the bronze razor, a tool her grandfather had used to trim the edges of his...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale CircusThe ink will not dry, Elias. It is still wet. You stand in the center of the guild hall, the smell of damp wool and old varnish clinging to your clothes, and you watch the black pigment bead on the parchment like oil on a cold pan. The Guildmaster, a man named Halloway whose face is a map of wrinkles carved by suspicion, points a bony finger at the lion you have painted. It is not a lion. It is...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale TowerThe mist in Oren did not roll in; it settled, a grey fur that choked the cobblestones and muted the clatter of hooves. Elias Thorne stood in the doorway of his cramped apartment, the silver locket clutched in his left hand, feeling the faint, rhythmic pulse of warmth against his palm. It was the only thing in the city that felt alive, a small, stubborn ember in the damp cold. He was thirty-two,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale VerdictThe brass valve handle was cold, slick with condensation, and it fit into my palm like a key I had lost years ago. I was thirty-four, a junior clerk at the Municipal Waterworks, and I was holding a ledger of iron pipes that was slowly turning against me. The winter audits were six weeks away, and tenure was the only thing standing between me and the street. I wanted that signature. I wanted the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek