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 Wistful LetterChapter One "We’re out of filters again, aren’t we?" Fatuma Haile asked, her voice flat against the hum of the ventilation shaft. The air in the lower level of the stone habitat tasted of wet limestone and stale copper. It was a thick, physical weight that settled in the lungs before the eyes could adjust to the dim amber light of the work lamps. Fatuma, the colony’s senior hydrologist, wiped...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale AltarThe toll gates of Copenhagen stood silent in the greenish light that precedes a hailstorm, the iron barriers rusted and still while the city churned with the low hum of industry and the distant, rhythmic thud of the mill siren tested at noon. In the shadow of the workshop above, where the air smelled of hot metal and old oil, Solveig Kvist stood with her hands clasped behind her back, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestAct I "Entry 402: Debt to The Mirror. Date: 1921. Amount: One Hour. Status: Collected." The ink was blue. It had been blue for forty-five years. Mzee Juma adjusted his spectacles, the lenses smudged with the dust of the archive, and stared at the page. The radiator in the corner knocked, a rhythmic, metallic thud that matched the beat of his own pulse. He was a senior archivist, a man of...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathMin-jun Ahn stood in the tithe barn, the smell of damp grain and old iron filling his nose before the light did. He was thirty-two, a court physician whose hands trembled only when he held the golden root, a sliver of wood that glowed faintly, a pulse of amber in the dark. The Emperor’s cough had turned the palace air thick with blood, and Min-jun had accepted the command to execute the failed...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RiverAct I Who pays for the water that rises without rain? Lester Aldridge counted the coins in his palm, the copper edges worn smooth by forty-two years of handling them. He was forty-two himself, a river-keeper in Oakhaven, a town of mist-shrouded streets where the fog rolled in like a grey tide. The debt to the Guild was due by the winter solstice, a sum that seemed to grow larger each time he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden GreenhouseAct I "Did you sign it, or did the wind?" I asked, my hand still resting on the cold brass of the door handle. The wind off the plateau was not a metaphor; it was a physical weight that pressed against my chest, smelling of wet stone and dried horse hair. I am Pilar Herrera, a clerk of the third class, and I had spent the last three years in the shadow of the Golden Greenhouse. It stood in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AtlasAct I In the chawls of Mumbai, silence is a commodity as scarce as clean water, and Nitin Banerjee knew the price of buying it. At forty-two, with a pension frozen mid-career and a tenure review looming like a debt collector, he had been hired to catalog the estate of the late Mrs. Chatterjee, a matriarch whose name still carried the weight of old money in the neighborhood. The house was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageThe morning Yakubu Ansah found the barnacle fused to his palm, the shipyard clocks had already begun to disagree, the main tower showing a quarter past seven while the timepiece in the counting house lagged a full minute behind, a discrepancy that would haunt the shift like a splinter in the wood. He was a harbor guard, a man whose life was measured in the weight of iron plates and the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdAct I The archive ships ran on a schedule that respected no one, not the saints, not the debtors, not the dead. Camille Chargois woke in the barrack room of the Sainte-Famille, the air heavy with the scent of wet hemp and the metallic tang of his own cough, which had grown a new, hollow depth since the last inspection. He was forty-two, an inquisitor of the second rank, and his lungs were...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek