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 Faded PortraitGaspard Hubert, thirty-four years old and constable of the Third Watch, was polishing the brass fittings of the banquet table when the silence from the dais began to weigh on him like wet wool. He stood at eighty-four of Stonecutter Alley, though here in the shadow of the dead volcano, the address meant little more than a line in a ledger of debts owed to the Council. The air in the hall was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ClueAct I Fauzi Kusuma stood in the milliner’s workroom on seventy-one of Candlewick Row, the lease for his nail salon due in three days and the air heavy with stale glue and dust. He was thirty-two, a border guard by trade, but here he was, bargaining for his brother’s life with the desperation of a man who had forgotten how to breathe without counting the cost. The superior, a rigid bureaucrat...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassThe brass compass sat in Elias’s palm, the needle trembling against the cold metal casing. It was a heavy thing, tarnished at the edges, a relic from a time when his brother still walked the earth. Now it hummed, a low static frequency that vibrated up his wrist and settled in his teeth. Elias wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief that had long since lost its starch. Around him, the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BannerThe transfer order was already on the screen, the cursor blinking in the stark white void of the interface, and Julian’s finger hovered over the enter key, the blue light of the monitor washing out the fine lines of his face until he looked less like a man and more like a schematic diagram of a man, a junior analyst whose hands had finally learned the terrible, precise weight of institutional...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassCould a twelve-year-old boy save his father by breaking a thing? Ray Dobbs held the cracked golden compass in his palm, the weight of it cold against his skin, a heavy coin he had spent his last dime on at the general store in Pictou. The house in the fog hummed with a low, rhythmic vibration that matched the erratic breathing of his father, a domestic uncanny presence that had always been...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded PhotographCorazon Ocampo’s hands were slick with the grease of the wind-turbine nacelle, the metal cold against his palms as he scrubbed the quarantine stamp from the crate. It was a mark of exclusion, a red ink scar that meant the contents were unsafe, but in the humid air of the estero, where the water lapped at the printed streets like a slow tide, safety was a luxury he could not afford. He worked...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden QuestThe blade of the sword bit into the bronze, and the sound that followed was not a ring but a scream, a high, thin shriek that tore through the silence of the tower and vibrated in the teeth of every man present. Elias Thorne did not pull the weapon back. He held it there, the hilt slick with sweat, his arms trembling not from fear but from the sheer, physical exhaustion of having swung a heavy...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful GridAct I Could a man be erased before he was even dead? Dawit Tesfaye asked the question to the empty room, his voice cracking against the plaster walls of the scriptorium, a place that smelled of damp lime and the sharp, metallic tang of fear. He was thirty-two years old, a scribe of no particular renown, and the winter solstice was four days away. The royal ledger sat on the desk before him, a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden EchoesThe letter from the Board of Trustees lay on the desk, its ink still faintly wet, detailing the specific terms of Elias Thorne’s provisional appointment at St. Jude’s Institute. He read the clause regarding tenure once, twice, his fingers tracing the dry, embossed paper until the edges felt soft and worn. He was fifty-two years old, a man whose knees ached when the barometer dropped, and he...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek