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 MirrorAct I The salt wind off the delta rice paddies carried the stench of rotting grape skins into the county assessor’s office, a smell that clung to the wool coats of the workers and the cheap ink of the ledgers alike, while outside, the strikebreaker’s wagon rattled over the cobblestones with a rhythmic, mechanical thud that vibrated in the floorboards. Marie Sedlacek, twelve years old and small...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiThe ledger entry reads: Wu Lan, Warden, Class IV. Debt: One tree. Status: Rotting. The ink is still wet on the paper. I hold the quip, my hand trembling not from cold, but from the vibration in my own chest. It is a low, dull thud, like a stone dropped into a deep well. Outside the window of the counting house, the mulberry trees stand stripped to the bone, their stumps jagged against the grey...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden GreenhouseAct I Opal Waggoner had been a scribe for the Crown for three years, a fact that weighed less than the ledger she carried each morning from the top floor of the department store to the court’s intake office. The building stood on the edge of the ash field, its brickwork stained grey by the volcanic dust that had settled over the valley decades ago, a permanent soot that no amount of scrubbing...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded GuestThe ink in Feng He’s dream was not black but the color of dried blood, thick as sludge, filling his lungs with the weight of the basin itself. He woke gasping, the air in his berth tasting of recycled ozone and old sweat. He was thirty-two, a desalination tech on the generation ship Shu, and he owed a mortgage on his sleeping berth that would take another decade of perfect shifts to clear....0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CipherNia Llewellyn, thirty-two, a clerk in the ration office of the valley, had her name written in red ink on a pawn ticket for a pair of boots she could no longer afford, and she was currently trying to decode a shattered cipher to save her friend Owen from a violent purge that had already eaten three men in the queue. What stood against him was not just the war’s chaos, but the uncanny fact that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful SagaThe ledger is lying to you, Elias, and you are too stupid to see the blood on its pages. Director Halloway’s voice was thin, stretched over the damp air of the archive room like a wire that had been pulled too tight, snapping back into a silence that smelled of mildew and old paper. He sat in the corner, his breathing a wet, rattling thing, while I stood by the desk, my hands trembling not from...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden DowntownThorne, Thorne, Thorne, the Guild Master’s voice cut through the damp air of the basement, sharp and final, like a chisel striking wet stone. Elias Thorne did not look up from the parchment spread across the cold iron table. He knew the rhythm of Halloway’s footsteps, the heavy thud of his boots against the flagstones, the specific creak of the door that had not been oiled in three years. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant NightmareThree hours on the gravel road. That was the distance from the county line to Oakhaven, measured not in miles but in the grinding of the transmission and the silence that pressed against the truck’s windows. Elias Thorne kept his eyes on the white line, his hands steady at ten and two, though his pulse hammered a frantic, arrhythmic beat behind his ribs. He was there for the ashes. That was the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful AtlasElias Thorne pressed his thumb into the crack of the limestone wall, the grit biting into the soft pad of his skin, and felt the warmth rise, a slow, wet pulse that had nothing to do with the damp chill of the archive. He wiped his hand on his trousers, leaving a faint, rusty smear, and turned back to the ledger, his pen hovering over the next column of dates. The ink was black, but the stain...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek