0 Comments
0 Shares
2 Views
0 Reviews
Directory
Discover new ideas, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
The Faded AlibiChapter One "You cannot sell what is not there, Hafsa." Karim’s voice was dry, scraping against the silence of the room. He stood by the window, his back to her, watching the fog swallow the port. The mist was a physical weight, pressing against the glass, erasing the line where the water met the sky. Hafsa sat at the table, her hands resting on the rolled parchment of the cottage’s plans. She...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant GhostChapter One The ward had been gentrified for three years, a process that moved through the streets like a slow fever, stripping the old brick facades and replacing them with glass that reflected the grey sky back at itself. The mail boat gave its two blasts at dawn, a sound that cut through the wet air, signaling the arrival of goods and the inevitable departure of the old. Heide Krueger stood...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassChapter One "Item 109: Salt Gate. Brass mechanism. Status: Active." Esperanza Iturbe ran her thumb over the cold brass of the Golden Compass, the metal gritty with decades of dust and the faint, oily residue of machine grease. She was thirty-two, a court archivist in a position that should have been impossible for a woman, yet she held it by the sheer friction of her competence and the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful CrossroadsChapter One "Give me the deed, or I will burn the dock," Fatima Rahal said, her voice flat against the hum of the grav-light. Alderman Vane sat behind his desk, the air in his office cool and buttery, smelling of old oil and damp wool. He did not look up from the ledger he was balancing, his fingers stained with ink. "You are a comms relay hermit, Fatima. You have a quota of three repairs and...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded DustThe bell tolled six times, a low, iron-throated sound that vibrated in the marrow of my bones. "Elias," Master Halloway called from the shadows of the scriptorium, his voice rough with the grit of the night shift. "Take the Iron Compass. Your father’s letter is sealed. You walk the Pass today." I did not look back. I knew the weight of the brass cylinder in my satchel, the cold bite of the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant ThresholdThe brass ticket punch hung heavy in Elias Thorne’s hand, the cold metal biting into his palm as he clutched it against his chest, a talisman of authority that felt increasingly alien in the dark, swaying carriage. He was fifty-two, though the reflection in the train window told a different story, showing a withered corpse where a man should have been, the glass acting not as a mirror but as a...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded FrontierThe letter lay on the cold oak desk, the ink still damp where the Abbot had signed it. Elias Thorne read the words again, his breath fogging in the drafty scriptorium. "The ration is denied." It was a simple sentence, but it carried the weight of the winter that was coming. Outside, the wind scraped against the stone walls of the monastery, a sound like nails on a chalkboard. Elias looked at...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BonsaiChapter One Shahid Swati remembered the sound of the ceiling giving way, a wet, tearing shriek that was louder than the thunder outside, and he knew then that the pension he had bled for was gone, crushed under the same concrete that pinned his legs. He lay in the dark of the quarantine ward, the air heavy with wet plaster and the metallic tang of fear, and he counted the twelve others trapped...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded ApartmentThe quill snapped against the parchment, spraying a constellation of black droplets across the vellum, and I did not have the time to clean the mess, nor the patience to curse the brittle nib, because the candle was guttering low and the debt was high. I am Elias Thorne, scribe to the Abbey of St. Jude, and I am stealing. Not the gold from the reliquary, nor the wine from the cellar, but the...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek