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 FrequencyChapter One "Did you hear that?" Rosario asked, his voice thin against the hum of the gaslight. He adjusted the dial on the shortwave receiver, the brass knob gritty with years of dust and neglect. The static hissed, a dry, abrasive sound like sandpaper on skin. He was alone in the damp room of his boarding house, the walls sweating with the coastal humidity that clung to Mexico City in the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CompassChapter One Meena Khan pressed the quill into the wet ink, the nib scratching a sharp, dry line across the parchment. The golden dust on her fingers had grown heavy again, settling into the creases of her knuckles with a cold, mineral weight that made the paper feel like sand. She was cataloging the celestial maps for the new quarter, a task that required a steady hand, but her wrist trembled...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded Photograph"Debt due: three bushels of dried lavender, one bronze mirror, and the name of the father." The ink was still wet when Baptiste Renard read it. He sat in the damp cellar of the manor, the air so cold it bit through his wool shirt, digging through the rotting effects of his late father. He was thirty years old, a sergeant of the local garrison, but here, in the dark, he was just a son trying to...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Pale BridgeMy hands were deep in the wet clay of the Pale Bridge’s third span, smoothing a crack that had opened like a weeping mouth, when I heard the hammer strike the iron bell at the Guild Hall. The sound cut through the fog, sharp and final, vibrating in the marrow of my wrist where the mortar was cold. I pulled my gloves off, the leather stiff with dried lime, and looked up at the stone arches that...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Faded RuinChapter One Yamato Matsumoto knew that the Rot would take him before the ink dried, a certainty that sat in his marrow like a stone. He was fifty-two, the Senior Archivist of the Iron Citadel, and his hands, once steady enough to grind a blade to a whisper’s edge, now trembled with a palsy that made the restoration of the boundary map a daily act of war. The archive smelled of wet wool and the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Distant MetropolisThe entry reads: Nguyen Van Tu, 1904, Status: Absent, Debt: Unpaid. Thị Nam woke with the taste of rust on her tongue, the same metallic tang that had haunted her dreams for the last three months, a dream of a metropolis built of glass and fog that existed only in the space between her eyelids. She sat up in the narrow cot in her quarters, the air thick with the humidity that seeped through the...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Wistful VoyageChapter One Did you think the ink would hold? Franca Zito asked the question aloud, her voice thin in the drafty room, while the sewing machine treadled softly in the next room, a rhythm that matched the pulse in her temples. She was forty-two, her eyes tired, and the winter solstice was three days away. The Duke’s final document lay on the table, the parchment heavy and damp with the dampness...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden OathAct I I have spent the last three weeks counting the cracks in the plaster of our cellar, which floods to the third step, a habit born of the rain that has fallen for six days, cold as March in the height of midsummer. It is a strange weather for the Ethiopian highlands, a physical fact that chills the blood more than any ghost could. I am Neema Alemu, though the Inspectorate now lists me only...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Golden CellarAct I I remember the weight of the gold leaf peeling off the ceiling, a flake the size of a fingernail, landing on the index card in my pocket. It was 1974, and the air in the Galician ria was still, that heavy, physical pressure before a storm breaks, pressing against the glass of the airport hotel bar where I sat with my medical bill. The paper on the table listed the cost of the operation my...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 Reviews
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek