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 AffairAct I "You are to sign the manifest, Officer." The voice belonged to Kwame, the senior auditor, who stood in the doorway of the loft under the tin roof, his breath pluming in the sleet that hammered against the corrugated metal. The air inside smelled of wet wool and the sharp, metallic tang of the Vexley monkey-wrench hanging on the wall, a tool Efua Agyapong had not touched in years. She sat...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestDebt: Three Taels, Seven Mace. Status: Overdue. Payee: Temple Granary. The ink was still wet on the clay tablet, the characters sharp against the rough, sun-baked surface. Qing He held it up to the light filtering through the slats of the counting room, the wood of the frame splintered under his thumb. He was thirty-four, though the hollows beneath his eyes made him look a decade older. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant TempleChapter One Lucia Lombardi was an oyster warden who owed the village more than she had in her pockets, and the rain in the valley was cold enough to crack the ice on the forge doors. She stood in the mud, her boots soaking through, clutching a brass astrolabe that hummed against her palm with a low, rhythmic vibration. The object was her late husband’s, a thing of gears and glass that should...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe stone path cracked under Gopal Ganguly’s weight, a jagged line of grey flint that marked the end of the village and the beginning of the dark. He was twelve, though he wore his height like a borrowed coat, and he carried the weight of a debt his family could not pay, a bride-price in arrears that sat on his father’s chest like a stone. The air smelled of wet ash and rotting palm fronds, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseAct I Nikos Zafeiriou’s hands were buried to the wrist in the wet clay of the trench, the bronze razor tucked tightly into the leather roll of his sleeve, its cold weight a constant pressure against his inner arm. He was digging for water, not for gold, but the earth here in the Cypriot interior was stubborn, holding its secrets like a miser holds coins, and the clan elders watched from the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CellarCould a name be stolen if the one who bore it had already forgotten its weight? Akosua Abubakar stood in the doorway of the boiler room, her fingers stained with the black grease of the steam pipes that ran like arteries through the walls of the boarding house, listening to the hum of the refrigerator in the empty shop below, a low, electric drone that vibrated against her molars. She was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ChronicleChapter One The cypress knees of the bayou corridor held the weight of the rain, a sideways deluge that had battered the Finnish lakeside parish for seven days straight, turning the earth into a slurry that sucked at the boots of every soul who dared to leave the house. Inside the parish hall, the air was heavy with roasted pork and stale tobacco, a humid fog that clung to the sweat-dampened...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful IncenseThe ink in Enid Draff’s well was not black, but a dried, rusty brown, and it smelled of iron and old copper. She was forty-two, a court scribe of the third rank, and her hands were stained to the wrist in a color that no amount of lye could scrub away. In the city of Keth, built in the bowl of a dead volcano, the light did not rise so much as it pooled, thick and golden, spilling over the slate...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrequencyAct I 14 October. The magistrate’s office smelled of damp wool and old paper, a scent that seemed to cling to the back of the throat. Kostas Georgiou stood before the desk, his hands trembling not from fear but from the sheer, crushing weight of the object he had tried to sell. The antique radio, wrapped in oilcloth, sat on the floor by the door, a heavy, wooden box that had belonged to his...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek