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 Distant ThresholdChapter One Lester Dobbs remembered the cold in the wind-turbine nacelle, a damp chill that seeped through his boots and settled in his joints, long after he had left the station for the inland mudflats. He stood now at the threshold of the desalination plant, holding the worn iron key to the main gate, the metal cold and rough against his palm, a weight he had carried for thirty years since...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AshesChapter One Fatemeh Hosseini remembered the weight of the key before she ever held it. It was a Tuesday in the 1960s, the air in the caravanserai heavy with coal smoke and the damp, mineral tang of the quarry lakes that fenced the town. She stood at the center of the banquet, a lavish affair held in the Ashen Court, the estate’s architecture shifting subtly around the guests like a held breath....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenThe air in the Municipal Records Office tasted of ozone and stale coffee. It was 1912, a year when the ice on the lake cracked all night, a sound like a bone snapping under a boot, and the only thing more cold than the wind was the silence of the clerks. I am Ylva Ekstrom, thirty-two, a junior archivist. My job is to file. My job is to be invisible. I wanted to keep my job. I wanted to file the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale DanceAct I "It tastes of betrayal," Elara said, pushing the clay cup away from her lips, the liquid inside shivering with a cold that had no source. Sagal Adan stood in the doorway of their stone house, the weight of the dried bitter root heavy in his apron pocket, a burden that felt less like medicine and more like a stone he had swallowed years ago. He had prepared the tea according to the old...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustEvery man in the valley knew the price of salt, but few knew the cost of keeping it. The kilns in the quarter of San Antón had been burning since dawn, turning the air into a thick, orange soup that stuck to the teeth. Rosario Figueroa stood by the bridge, watching the mule cough up froth. The beast was dying, a fact that meant nothing to the toll collector who demanded his silver for the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenCarl Yancey’s shovel bit into the mud, and the handle snapped. The wood gave way with a sound like a dry bone breaking, leaving him holding a splintered shaft while the blade remained buried, trembling in the earth. He stood there, chest heaving, the midsummer rain falling cold and sharp against his neck, each drop a tiny, physical fact in a world that had forgotten how to be dry. The fog had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisAct I The valley opened up like a bruise under the low, grey sky of the thaw, the blackened coal tips sitting heavy against the pale mud of the roads where the snow had rotted into slurry. It was a time of settling accounts, both financial and structural, in a place where the ground itself was exhaling the damp of the winter. I stood at the gate of the Caerdydd detention center, my breath...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant WhispersIn his right hand, Elias Thorne held a loaf of bread. It was stale, the crust hard as a river stone, and the center had turned a soft, wet brown. He squeezed it, and a black liquid oozed between his fingers, slick and cold. He looked at the stain on his leather glove, then at the table where his mother, Martha, sat with her back to the fire. The manor was quiet, but it was the wrong kind of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MasterThe bell rang, sharp and brassy, cutting through the damp chill of the scriptorium. Elias looked up from his desk, his fingers already trembling against the smooth, cool surface of the vellum. He had spent three years on this book, the Golden Master, layering gold leaf over ink until the pages seemed to glow with their own internal heat. It was not just a job. It was the only thing that made...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek