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177 Publicações
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Female
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12/02/1990
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The Shadow of BlackwoodThe snow fell without ceasing, thick and indifferent, as though the sky itself had forgotten why it wept. Arthur Pendelton stood at the threshold of Blackwood Hall, his coat thin against the Yorkshire wind, his lantern casting a trembling circle of amber light into the dark. He had come to check the east wing—again, the place where three years ago the fire had taken his mother and sister,...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 AnteriorFaça o login para curtir, compartilhar e comentar!
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The Patient from BelowThe voice started on a Tuesday, in the basement of Dr. Edward Blackwood's clinic in the town of Arkham, Massachusetts. Eddie was fifteen, brilliant and troubled in equal measure, and he had spent the last three years sitting on his father's examination table while his father examined other people's minds. His father was sitting in his armchair, conducting what should have been a routine session...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Rain in the Convenience Store(V-12: Dirty Realism) The fluorescent lights of the 7-Eleven hummed in a flat, oppressive B-flat. It was 3:14 AM in a city that felt like it was made of wet concrete and broken promises. Julian sat on a plastic stool, staring at a lukewarm cup of coffee and a soggy tuna sandwich. Julian had spent fifteen years as a "Ghost"—a high-level asset for a private intelligence firm that didn't exist on...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Winter at Blackwood HallACT I — THE COMING COLD The fire had died to embers by the time Eleanor Gray arrived at Blackwood Hall. That was the first thing she noticed: a grand Yorkshire manor, three hundred years of Blackwood blood and stone, and no fire in the hearth. The driver had dropped her at the iron gates with a look that said he would run if she asked him to stay past dusk. She dragged her single trunk across...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Range That Was Two Ranges at OnceThe green Garland range at The Brass Bell existed in two states simultaneously. It was a gas range, a simple appliance of iron and brass that had been cooking food since 1926. And it was a vessel, a container for the preserved brain of Danny Mercer, a chef who had died in a grease fire in Detroit. Both states were true. Both states were false. The range was neither and both, and the kitchen...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 10 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Mirror at the End of ReasonThe first patient told Dr. William Hart that the sky was watching him. This was not, in itself, unusual. Patients told psychiatrists all manner of strange things. They told them their neighbours were spies. They told them the radio was sending them coded messages. They told them God had spoken to them in the shower. The sky watching was almost quaint in its simplicity. But this patient was not...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 9 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The server room smelled of ozone and warm vacuum tubes. Eleanor Chase watched the needle on the monitoring gauge climb past the one-million mark and felt something between triumph and terror rise in her chest.One million souls connected. One million voices speaking into the void, hoping someone would hear. She adjusted the frequency dial on the main receiver and listened to the static hiss of a million simultaneous conversations crackling through copper wires and radio waves. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was exactly what she had dreamed of when she first wrote the connecting code three...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 3 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Anvil of PiAct One: The Discovery The rain in Derbyshire had a way of getting into your bones that no wool sweater could keep out. Thomas Whitmore knew this better than most. At fifty-two, his joints ached with the damp, and the doctor had suggested London. London, where the fog was so thick you could spread it on bread. But Thomas had refused. There was work to be done here, in the dales, in the old铅...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 9 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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Dr. William Hartwell first noticed the spots on the back of his left hand in March.They were small, no bigger than a pinhead, and grey, and they looked like they had been carved into his skin rather than grown there. He had first dismissed them as a rash, which they were not. He had then dismissed them as a fungal infection, which they might have been. He had finally dismissed them by not dismissing them at all, because they were growing, and they were hard, and when he...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 12 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Luminous CircuitI The auditorium at the American Medical Association's annual meeting in Washington was full to capacity, and the overflow crowd stood in the aisles and pressed against the back walls like sardines in a tin. Thomas Blackwell stood at the podium and looked out at three thousand faces—surgeons and researchers and politicians and journalists—and felt the same cold certainty he felt every time he...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 12 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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Title: The Ivory MutationThe cliffs of Arkham were jagged teeth biting into a bruised purple sky. Alistair lived in the shadow of the Miskatonic Library, a man obsessed with the "Symphony of the Spheres." He had found a manuscript, written in a language that seemed to shift and breathe on the page, which taught him how to "absorb" the fundamental laws of nature. At first, the power was a gift. Alistair could make the...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 17 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Patient from BelowChapter I: The Braking The letter arrived on a Friday, which in Vienna is the day when everyone pretends the weekend is going to save them from things they should have dealt with on Monday. It was typed on government stationery, in a font that was designed to look friendly but achieved only the effect of a smile that does not reach the eyes. The letter informed me that the Weiss Institute for...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 19 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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