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 CrownThe gas works in the outer boroughs ran on a rhythm of heavy, metallic groans, the smell of sulfur and wet coal hanging thick in the air as the shift change whistles shrieked across the empty field. Willis Hutchins stood at the edge of the collapsed shaft, his boots sinking into the slurry of mud and broken timber, the weight of the morning pressing down on his shoulders like a physical load....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistChapter One The copper fields of the Basque coast shimmered under the midday heat, a landscape of monsoon-green paddy stretching to the ridgeline where the threshing floor waited for the grain. The parish bell tolled twice, marking the hour for the tax boat’s arrival, a sound that cut through the dry air with the sharpness of a blade. Ramon Uribe, a translator for the palace, stood at the edge...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe nib of the quill scratched against the vellum, a sound like a small animal dying, and Elias watched the ink bleed into the fiber, darkening the page with a wet, heavy permanence that seemed to pull the air down with it. He was twelve years old, though his hands were not the hands of a boy but the calloused, stained tools of a scribe who had been working the scriptorium for three years, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe stone wall of the old church is colder than the night air, and it hits the back of Elias Thorne’s head with a sound like a dry branch snapping. He tastes copper and old dust, the taste of the river mud he’s been walking through for three weeks, and the pain blooms behind his eyes, white and hot. "You’re done, Elias," Sheriff Vance says, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth that used to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalAct I Cormac Kavanagh had been dead for thirty-four years, yet he still paid the management fees on his retirement fund, a bureaucratic ghost clinging to the ledger of a life that had ended in a shipyard slip in 1990. The office of the Aetherial Bureaucracy smelled of ozone and damp wool, a scent that clung to the linoleum floor where the queue snaked past the filing cabinets, each drawer...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant JourneyThe bridge toll is up again, and I cannot find the ledger. You are standing at the gate of Kael’s Pass, your hands trembling not from the cold but from the first stiffening of the joints that will define the rest of your life. The iron key in your palm is warm, a domestic fever that hums against the skin of your wrist. It is 1347, and the winter snows are three days away, yet you feel the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesAct I "NOTICE OF CORRECTION: The left hand of Elara Joyce, spouse of Captain Padraig Joyce, is hereby flagged for mandatory vitality extraction. Report to the Orbital Loading Dock within forty-eight hours. Failure to comply will result in the suspension of your oxygen subscription and the seizure of your ice-hauling license." The paper was cold in my hands, the ink still wet and smelling of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden HarborThe rain in the Blackwood valley did not fall so much as it hung, a grey veil that blurred the edges of the world and turned the stone walls of the manor into the bones of a drowned giant. Arthur Vane stood at the threshold, his constable’s coat heavy with moisture, his hand resting on the iron latch that had not been opened in three weeks. He was forty years old, a man whose face had been...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MistGunnar Lund had always believed that a line drawn in the mud was a line that could be held. He stood now in the grey nothing of the delta, the service revolver cold in his right hand, the weight of it a familiar anchor against the chaos of the fog. It was 1912, and the air in Copenhagen’s outer streets tasted of coal smoke and wet reed. He wanted the ring. Not for the gold, which was thin and...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek