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The Pale TaleChapter One Could a wall truly listen? Kwame Mensah tapped the slide rule against his desk, the sound sharp and dry in the low-pressure hum of the hydroponics bay. He was fifty-two, a structural engineer for the Cape Town Undersea Cluster, and he had a deadline: the renovation of the old family chapel had to be certified by Friday. The charter for their colony was a document nobody had read in...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Faded PhotographI, Zainab Hussain, was twelve years old and already learning that the air in Lahore had a taste, like copper filings dissolved in stale water, and that my lungs, which should have been sponges for breath, had become stiff, dry things that cracked when I tried to fill them. The frost had killed the late beans in the garden behind the walled city, turning the green vines into black, brittle...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden MazeThe fog in the lamp room did not smell of steam; it smelled of copper pennies and wet ash. Vaino Salminen, forty-two and stiff in the joints, pressed his shoulder against the door of the mine’s lamp room, the bronze pivot groaning in its socket as the cold bit into his wool coat. He was a foreman, a man who counted hours and deducted wages, but tonight he was merely a father chasing a ghost....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant TempleThe vial trembled in Elias Thorne’s fingers, a small glass cylinder filled with a powder that shimmered with the dull, oily iridescence of crushed beetle wings, and as he pressed it close to his ear, the whisper was there again, a dry, rasping exhalation that spelled out Julian’s name with a terrible, intimate familiarity. It was the year of our Lord 1342, a time when the air in the Low...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful SilenceThe ledger had been open for three days, its pages yellowed like old teeth, and Giovanni Ferraro knew that the ink on the seal was watching him back. He was thirty-two, a senior archivist at the Ministry of Records, and the promotion to Head of Custody hung in the balance, a prize that required the decoding of a cursed entry in the Ministry’s oldest volume. The seal was not static; it moved, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Golden FarceProperty Notice: The lot at 442 Calle de la Cruz is forfeited to the creditor. All assets, including the used inventory and the high-interest paper, are liquidated effective immediately. The owner is to vacate by sundown. I read the notice three times, my thumb smearing the ink on page one of the bankruptcy filing, the paper slick and cold in my hand despite the three days of sirocco that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful DinnerIn the river delta, the reeds die standing, their brown stalks rigid against the current, holding their ground long after the water has turned them to rot. Babatunde Agyapong, the tax collector for the lower wards, knew this truth better than he knew his own pulse, for he had spent twelve years measuring the value of things that refused to yield, standing in the cold forge of the blacksmith’s...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Distant LegendChapter One "RE: Application for Permanent Tenure. Status: PENDING. Note: Applicant exhibits signs of instability regarding basement access." Carmela Zito read the memo twice, the paper thin and grey under the fluorescent tube that buzzed like a trapped fly. She was thirty-two, and the light from the window was low and slanted, catching the dust motes that danced in the air of the office. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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The Wistful CampusThe file slipped between Elias’s thumb and forefinger, a sliver of brass no wider than a grain of rice. He held it up to the lamp, turning it slowly, watching the light catch the microscopic scratches on its surface. It was the escape wheel for the third hour chime, the piece his brother Arthur had left unfinished before the fever took him. Elias set it down on the velvet mat, the sound a soft,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
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