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 RootChapter One "You’re late again, Harold," the voice said, dry as the husks in the bin. I looked up from the manifest. The ink was still wet, black and glossy against the cheap paper. I had been working since four in the morning, and the cold in the archive room had settled into my joints, a damp thing that refused to leave. The gas lamps hissed in their brass cages, casting a yellow, sickly...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ClueChapter One The air in the port hangar tasted of rust and wet wool, a heavy, metallic tang that coated the back of the throat and settled in the lungs like fine dust. Eugene Ledbetter stood before the Chief Magistrate’s desk, his uniform frayed at the cuffs where the fabric had worn thin against the rough wool of his belt, and he watched the man across the table tap a silver pen against the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DanceThe smell of wet chalk and old blood hung in the air of the ancestral compound, a scent that clung to the back of Adaeze Garba’s throat. She sat on the threshold, her left hand resting on her knee, though it did not obey her. It tapped a rhythm against her denim jeans, a slow, deliberate beat that matched no song she knew. The dry wind cracked the clay walls of the house, sending fine dust into...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinThe red light on your terminal blinks. It is a steady, rhythmic pulse, like a heart monitor flatlining in slow motion. You are Elias Vance, thirty-four, a Compliance Officer in the Ministry of Civic Order, and you are currently being erased. The air in the office is sterile, recycled, smelling faintly of ozone and dust. You want to clear your name. You want to explain that the report of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeThe chisel bit into the granite, a sharp, brittle sound that echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling of the workshop, and I stopped mid-stroke, my breath held in a tight, white knot in my chest. I looked up from the stone, the dust settling in the slanting afternoon light that cut through the single, high window, and there he was. Julian. Not a ghost, not a spirit, but a reflection in the slab of...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusJuma Hussein owed the canal commission forty shillings for the lease on his grinding bench, a sum that had doubled overnight because the inspector, a man named Okello who wore his honesty like a cheap watch, had found the old mill race dry and declared the water rights void. The town was a place of stone and salt air, where the monsoon had just broken and the paddy fields stretched green to the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostFarhad Yousefi stood before the crumbling brick facade of the old mill, the soot-choked air of 1912 hanging heavy over the Persian desert caravanserai town. The structure groaned, a low, tectonic whisper that the locals claimed was the voices of the dead, absorbed into the mortar by generations of guilt. He pressed his thumb against the rough surface, feeling the vibration travel up his arm, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrequencyThe mortar was mixed to a consistency that cost me three pence a bucket in lime, and I had spent fourteen hours hauling the sand from the riverbank, my shoulders aching with a dull, persistent weight that settled deep in the bone. I stood before the Guild Master, Aldous Vane, who held a ledger in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other, looking at my hands as if they were soiled by something...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverChapter One "You have three hours before the ferry leaves, Thị Minh, and if the salt quota is not sealed by then, the guild will take your hands as payment." The heat in the attic of emigrated children’s things was a physical weight, pressing against Thị Minh’s lungs as she held the quill steady over the parchment. She was a scribe of the imperial salt office, a role that required not just...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek