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 MirrorReflections in this place arrive three seconds before the truth. Ren Matsumoto stood before the Shattered Glass in the Hall of Whispers, the air heavy with wet stone and old dust, while her image in the pane showed her already dead, a pale figure slumped against the base of the archway, a sign of the Tyrant’s impending strike that she could not yet feel in her own bones. The rain had been...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant AffairThe silk was cold against Elias Thorne’s fingertips, a shock that traveled up his wrist and settled in the hollow of his chest. He was kneeling on the floor of the back room of the archive, surrounded by the dry, papery smell of decaying ledgers and the dust of three centuries of municipal record-keeping. The scarf lay in the bottom drawer of his mentor’s desk, a garment of deep indigo with a...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden MythChapter One I remember the weight of the ink before I saw the stain. It sat in my palm like a wet stone, heavy and cold, seeping into the whorls of my fingerprints until I could no longer tell where my skin ended and the black liquid began. I woke with the taste of ash in my mouth, the recurring dream of the burning script still looping in my head, the characters curling into smoke before they...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden ScarThe estuary mud sucked at the boots of every worker in the Hokkaido settlement, a rhythmic, wet tearing sound that rose above the hiss of the sawmill blades and the distant, dry thunder of a storm that refused to break. I was the filer, a man of forty-two who spent his days sharpening steel until it could cut through the grain of Sitka spruce, and the town’s only debt was the interest accruing...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CampusAct I Dolores Beltrán remembered the taste of the mead, bitter and cloying, long after the wedding feast had dissolved into the grey September dusk. It was a memory that kept her awake, a sharp edge against the dull ache in her shoulder. She stood now at the edge of the courtyard, the heavy oak door behind her, watching the mist settle over the reeds that braided out into the delta. The air was...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful PetalChapter One Frank Dobbs had nine fingers and a debt that ate his sleep. He worked in a reclamation yard on the Nova Scotia coast, sorting dead machines under a sky so clear the stars offended the dark. The landlord, a man named Halloway, owned the only bridge off the island, and the border would close on Sunday. Frank needed a dowry for his niece, not in gold, but in the form of a specific,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinWho is a man, if not by the weight he can carry? Sijbrand Dekker asked this of the wind, which answered only by rattling the loose shingles of the boarding house where he slept on a straw pallet. He was twelve, old enough to know that the elders in the mining borough called his family "dust-born," a slur that stuck to his skin like coal dust. He wanted to prove them wrong. He wanted the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden RitualThe stone does not remember the hand that laid it, but the mortar remembers the heat. Maria Zuzarte woke with the taste of chalk in her mouth, her body aching with the specific, grinding fatigue that comes from sleeping in a room where the walls are too thin and the work bell of the rival yard has been ringing for six hours straight. She was forty years old, an archivist at the Port Authority’s...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden VisitAct I I remember the heat in my chest as a physical weight, heavier than the iron bars of the stable loft where I used to sleep. Ingeborg Aas, forty-two, sat on the edge of the cot, the golden locket pulsing against my sternum like a second, feverish heart. I had sold the patent for the grain sorter for a pittance, a mistake born of haste, and now the market shift had stranded the crop, leaving...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek