0 Comments
0 Shares
1 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Golden SuspectThe soju tasted of burnt sugar and rust, a thick liquid that coated the back of my throat and did not go down. I stood at the edge of the banquet table in the basement of the motor works, watching the golden light bleed from the chandeliers above. It was a strange light, thick and amber, pooling on the floorboards like spilled honey. The air hummed with a low vibration that I felt in my teeth...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful MirrorThe glass is not a mirror, Elias, it is a container, and you are leaking. Clara said this while standing in the doorway of the loft, her arms crossed over the white tunic she wore to work, the fabric stiff with dried sweat and the metallic tang of the hospital’s antiseptic air. She held a manila envelope in her left hand, the corner of it bent and soft from being carried in her pocket, and she...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MazeAct I On the northern cape, the light does not fade; it curdles. Estrid Forsberg felt the cold settle into his knuckles, a familiar ache that told him his time with the Council’s guard was running out. He stood on the recycling level, the air heavy with ozone and damp moss, watching the single bell mark the hour. His hands, once steady enough to weld hull plating in the shipyard, now trembled...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale MeridianThe letter lay on the mahogany table, its seal broken, the ink still wet with the weight of General Halloway’s signature. Elias Thorne read it twice, the paper feeling gritty and cheap under his fingertips, before he folded it into a square no larger than a playing card. The banquet hall behind him roared with the clatter of silver on china, a cacophony of cutlery and laughter that seemed to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostThe iron key was cold, heavier than its size suggested, and Elias Thorne held it in his right hand until the metal bit into the flesh of his palm. He stood at the precipice of the Whispering Vale, a place where the grass did not grow but hung suspended in a perpetual, humming twilight, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old, dry dust. The boundary here was not a line but a membrane, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RootThe banquet hall smelled of roasted pheasant and the cloying, sweet decay of figs, a scent that had clung to Elias Thorne’s uniform for twenty years like a second skin, a scent he had chased with the desperate, hungry devotion of a man seeking purity in a world that only offered him rot. He stood at the edge of the gilded room, his hands trembling not from age, for he was only forty, but from...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalThe light in the office was the color of old bandages, a pale, sickly yellow that seemed to seep out of the plaster itself, staining the air with a dampness that no amount of ventilation could scrub away. Xochitl Orozco sat at the desk, the wood worn smooth by decades of elbows and ledgers, and watched the rain streak the single, high window, each drop a small, deliberate act of erosion. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant LegendAct I The dream always ended with the smell of rust and wet iron, a metallic tang that coated the back of Guadalupe Castañeda’s throat before his eyes even opened. He woke in the narrow bed of his apartment on twenty-three of Gallows Corner, the air thick with the damp cold that seeped through the single pane glass. It was the third week of the strike, and the union fund was nearly spent, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded SutraChapter One Edna Tillman, forty-two, smelled of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of oxidizing iron, a scent that clung to the collar of her coat like a stubborn stain that no amount of scrubbing could lift. I woke with the taste of black ink on my tongue, a premonition of the work’s physical toll that left me gasping in the thin air of my rented room, where the plaster walls wept...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek