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 Golden MirrorChapter One Riku Yoshida had not slept in the east wing of the family estate for twenty years, but the brass key in his pocket still felt warm, as if it had been kept against his skin by the ghost of the man who had forged it. He was forty-two, a detective with the municipal force, and the institution that employed him was currently drafting the order that would strip him of his rank by Friday,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale GardenI The deadline for the census registration was three days away, and the rain had not stopped for a week, soaking into the plaster of the Hoshino Clinic until the walls wept a damp, gray sweat that smelled of old paper and rust. Sakura Yoshida stood in the lobby, her hands gripping the edge of the reception desk, which was slick with condensation, while the crowd outside pressed against the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden Myth"RE: PENSION CLAIM 402-B. STATUS: SUSPENDED. ANOMALY DETECTED." The paper was thin, the kind that tore if you breathed on it too hard, and Zaynab Fahmy held it up to the fluorescent tube of the pension office until the letters blurred into a gray smear. She was thirty-two, though the graveyard shift at the mall security desk had etched lines around her mouth that made her look older, and her...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful ThroneThe light in the precinct’s main corridor was the color of old dishwater, a flat, yellowish haze that clung to the dust motes dancing in the air. Elias Thorne stood by the window, his reflection ghosting against the glass, and watched the rain streak the pane in irregular, hurried lines. He was forty-five years old, a border patrol inspector with twenty-two years of service etched into the deep...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CircuitThe Imperial Bureau of Artisanal Standards, Form 14-C, regarding the installation of precision timepieces in the Palace of the Rising Sun: "Denied pending further review of structural integrity and bureaucratic compliance." I read the form again, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and damp, while the hail outside beat against the workshop window like a fist against a door. I am Walter Zorn,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe notice from the Guild of Casters, stamped in red wax, stated plainly: Lease terminated. Rent doubled effective the first of the moon. Failure to remit payment results in immediate eviction and seizure of goods. I read it three times, the paper thin as onion skin, while the sound of the sewing machines in the relay below grew louder, a rhythmic clatter that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. I...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden FarceDo you know what a key is for? Not for opening doors, though that is what they do. It is for proving that you have done the work to earn the right to open them. That is the first lesson they teach the pages in the Archive, before they even let them touch a book. You do not want the door. You want the proof. You want the Silver Key. Ibrahim Ansah stood in the queue for the ferry, the rain...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusAct I The air in the break room tasted of damp wool and stale coffee. Ernst Braun sat on the plastic chair, his hands trembling around a cup that had gone cold. He was twenty years old, a piano tuner with a student loan that bled into his father’s medical bills, and he was terrified of the silence. Outside, the first real dark of autumn pressed against the window, a physical weight that made...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe pen was slipping in Elias Thorne’s hand, the nib scratching against the cold, damp paper of his ledger with a sound like a rat gnawing on dry wood. He was cataloging the weeping fissure in the center of Oakhaven Park, a jagged tear in the earth that pulsed with a sickly, golden light, and his fingers were raw, the skin split and bleeding into the ink as he transcribed the murmurs that rose...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek