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 RiverThe ring is off, or it is not, and the iron has fused to the flesh. "Remove it," the Abbot said. His voice was dry, like sand scraped across a slate. "The scriptorium is a place of purity, not of filth. That metal smells of the mine. It smells of death." Elias held his hand up, the knuckles white, the iron band dark and hot against the skin. "It is an heirloom, Father. My family’s." "Your...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CrossingThe ink on the decree was still wet, glistening like a bruise on the parchment. I stood before the Minister, my hands trembling not from fear, but from the sheer, physical weight of the signature I had just applied. The room was cold, the air heavy with kerosene and damp wool, the gale outside battering the windows of the Ministry of Agricultural Purity with a rhythm that felt less like wind...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale EchoAct I "You’re holding the file upside down, Deepak. The seal is on the bottom." Magistrate Joshi’s voice was flat, a dry leaf skittering across stone. Deepak Mehta adjusted his grip on the manila folder, the paper brittle under his thumbs, and felt the chill rise from the cellar floor, a damp cold that settled in his lower back and refused to leave. He was thirty-two, a clerk with twelve years...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe whaling port of Fenwick Creek moved with the slow, grinding rhythm of the tides, a place where the smell of brine and rotting timber hung heavier than the air itself. Mildred Fenwick stood in the front room of the estate, her fingers pressed against the cold, splintered floorboards, feeling the pulse of the house beneath her skin. She was thirty years old, a clerk by trade, and she needed...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant BladeThorne. The name was not spoken with affection, nor even with the mild irritation one might reserve for a late rent payment, but with the flat, declarative weight of a diagnosis. Marcus stood in the doorway of the St. Jude’s Community Center, his silhouette framed by the sickly yellow glow of the hallway lamp, while Elias Thorne stood in the alley behind the building, the rain slicking the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairThe ledger sat on the desk, its spine cracked from the weight of twenty years of arithmetic. I counted the hours I had spent grading papers this week: forty-two, each one a brick in the wall of my tenure, each one a debt I owed to the stability of Millhaven Academy. I wanted the contract signed. I wanted the ink to dry before the frost set in. What I got instead was a refusal, delivered by Mr....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale LetterTigran Harutyunyan knew the weight of a lie before it settled on his tongue, a sensation like wet clay drying in the sun. He stood in the backroom of the pub, the air heavy with stale beer and the damp wool of his coat, watching Dr. Vahram’s hand tremble as he held the string of wampum. The beads were dark, treaty-deep, and they clicked against the table with a sound that stopped the small...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitChapter One "Item 7: Bioluminescent fungal growth, Sector 4, Dockside. Status: Stable. Decay rate: 0.4% per diem." Lois Pell pressed the stylus against the tablet, the light humming a low B-flat that vibrated in her molars. The entry was a lie, of course, but the truth was that the Golden Circuit had not decayed by a single micron in the last forty-eight hours. She sat in the storeroom of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded AlibiChapter One The cocoa town of Ogun-Osun stretched out under a sky so heavy with static electricity that the hair on Chioma Frimpong’s forearms stood up before he even opened the window of his small, rented room. It was a place of flat, empty fields that looked like the tarmac of a provincial airport, waiting for planes that would never land, and the air smelled of wet earth and the faint, sweet...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek