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 Distant CartographChapter One The numbness in Duarte Jorge’s left hand was a specific, localized silence. He sat in the archive of the municipal library, a place that smelled of dust and the metallic tang of old ink, and waited for the sensation to return. It did not. The room was cold, the kind of wet cold that seeps into the joints, and the hydroponic tray on the corner shelf held three struggling greens,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ChronicleIlena Brandt stood in the rain, watching the border wall crumble into the mud, knowing that the only thing heavier than the wet earth beneath her boots was the silence in her chest. She had wanted a transfer to the administrative office, a desk with dry paper and a view that did not include the encroaching grey, so she could sit by her mother’s bed and hold the hand that trembled with the palsy...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded BouquetThe ink was wrong. Gayane Sargsyan stared at the quill, the black substance pooling on the tip like a bruise that refused to heal. In the seed-library night desk, the air tasted of damp paper and stale iodine, a scent that had settled into the pores of her skin after twelve years of service. She was a mail clerk, a woman who sorted the dead weight of correspondence between stations, and she had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GardenWhat is the price of silence? I The damp in Vardzia did not merely settle; it ate. It rotted the timber of the threshing floor and the leather of the boots worn by Ivana Gevorgyan, a border officer of thirty-two years, who smelled of mildew and old iron. She stood before the well, where the moss grew thick as a tongue, devouring the sound of the wind. The Colonel had ordered the farmer, Tigran,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RootNune Markovic remembers the weight before she remembers the cold, a physical pressure settling on her shoulders like a wet wool coat that refused to dry. It is now, sitting in the back of the taxi medallion she bought high and lost low, that she understands the year was not 1347, nor the place a stone chamber in a medieval court, but the front room of the Markovic house, kept for funerals,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathChapter One The colony stirred in the blue half-light of the mid-voyage, a thousand souls waking in the tin-clad dormitories of the Cornwall sector, their breath fogging the cold glass of the airlocks. I stood at the porthole, watching the false spring break over the synthetic cliffs, the light turning the water into a sheet of hammered silver that seemed to stretch out forever. My name, Frank...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant PromiseAct I I was grinding the indigo into the paste when the bell rang, a single, sharp note that cut through the sleet hammering against the lattice windows. My hands were stained blue up to the wrists, the cold water numbing the skin as I scrubbed the dye from the court robe, a task I had performed for twelve years under the shadow of the High Treasurer. Dimitra Bakolas, the name on the eviction...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden Maze"Put the pen down, Eino." The voice did not come from the room. It came from the gold threads of the hanging on the wall, vibrating in a frequency that made Eino’s teeth ache. He stood in the kitchen of the manor, the air heavy with old varnish and the damp chill of the lake outside. The year was 2024, but the house felt like it had been paused in the 1950s, a relic of a resistance that had...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdWho asked you to hold the stone? I am Jelena Markovic, and I am writing this from the ward at the St. Nicholas Charity Hospital, where the air tastes of boiled wool and iodine. My left hand is in a cast, the plaster stiff and white against the grey sheet, a shape that is no longer quite mine. It has been three days since the mill at the river bend collapsed, and the silence in this room is so...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek