-
131 Yazı
-
0 Fotoğraflar
-
0 Videolar
-
Female
-
24/03/1998
-
Ardından: 0 people
Son Güncellemeler
-
Among the RootsThe house sat on a hill in Mississippi that used to be a river delta and then a cotton field and then a graveyard and then a house, and the hill had always been a river delta and would always be a river delta no matter what anyone built on top of it. Elias Thibodeaux inherited the house from his great-great-grandfather, who had inherited it from a man named Baptiste who had come to Louisiana...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 6 Views 0 önizlemePlease log in to like, share and comment!
-
LONG ISLAND LOVERJay Caldwell's parties were legendary, even by the standards of 1922. They said you could smell the champagne from the road, a sweet effervescence that drifted across Long Island Sound like the promise of something better just over the horizon. The mansion stood at the tip of West Egg, its windows blazing with light, its gardens filled with the laughter of people who had forgotten how to...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 8 Views 0 önizleme
-
Whispers in the FogVera Cross had been drinking since four in the afternoon. It was only six o'clock, but the gin bottle in her coat pocket felt like the only honest thing in a London that had forgotten how to be honest. Her husband had died under her care in a field hospital near Ypres, and she had held his hand while he bled out and told herself it was mercy. Three months later, she was back in London, assigned...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 19 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Cage of Two FacesThe mirror in the Beaumont townhouse was the first thing Isabelle de Montclair noticed when she arrived on Rue de Varenne. It was a full-length piece, framed in curved Art Nouveau silver, and it showed her face with an accuracy that felt almost cruel. Twenty-five years old, pale, dark-haired, with eyes that held a question she had spent her entire life avoiding. She had come to Paris at the...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 6 Views 0 önizleme
-
The EngineerI. The first time I met Marcus Chen, he told me the world was going to end in seventy-two hours. This was not a threat. It was not a joke. He said it the way a man might say the time has changed or the train is delayed—flatly, factually, with the quiet certainty of someone who has already verified the information through multiple independent sources. "You're hired," he said, extending a hand....0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 8 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Coffee House Ghost(Austro-Hungarian Empire Variation) Vienna in 1892 was a city of gilded facades and rotting foundations. In the Café Central, where the air was a thick mixture of roasted beans and intellectual arrogance, Julian Voss spent his afternoons watching the empire crumble in slow motion. Julian was a poet of the periphery, a man whose verses were too cynical for the salons and too romantic for the...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 6 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Edge of KnowingI. I woke in darkness. The water was at my waist and the walls were concrete and I did not know where I was. My name—no. I do not know my name. I know I am a doctor. A psychologist. I treat trauma. Post-traumatic stress. I sit in a chair and listen to people tell me about the things that broke them and then I try to put them back together. The water was cold. It moved slowly, like something...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 6 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Starlight AmbitionThe bridge at Long Island groaned under the weight of steel and sweat, and Tommy O'Sullivan wiped his forehead with a sleeve that had been white three months ago and was now the colour of dust. Below him, the East River moved like a dark ribbon, indifferent to the men who were building something that would span it. "Keep those rivets hot, O'Sullivan!" the foreman shouted from the other side....0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 6 Views 0 önizleme
-
Blood and MagnoliasI. The magnolias were blooming, which meant summer had arrived in a way that made the air so thick you could chew it. I stood on the porch of the main house and watched the flowers—white, perfect, obscene in their beauty—swaying in a breeze that smelled like damp earth and decay. I was twenty-eight years old, and I was the last Thorne who lived in the house that my great-great-grandfather had...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 7 Views 0 önizleme
-
Shadows on the SoundThe rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the dirt slicker. I stood in my office on Sunset Boulevard with a cigarette burning in the ashtray and a phone call from a man I didn't trust telling me to go to an island I didn't want to visit. The Echo Island Sanitarium, located in the Santa Cruz Channel, was a government-funded facility for veterans with what they called...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 6 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Glass HorizonThe city of Neo-Kyoto was a forest of obsidian and light, where the rain fell in rhythmic pulses and the wind smelled of ozone and old ink. In the shadow of the Great Spire, where the corporate lords lived in floating gardens, Julian lived in the "Under-City," a labyrinth of neon alleys and steam-filled vents. He was a "Memory-Sculptor," a technician who could prune the traumas of the wealthy,...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 5 Views 0 önizleme
-
The Keeper of Blackwood ShipyardsThe Thames fog clung to the cranes and gantries of Blackwood Shipyards like a shroud. Arthur Blackwood stood on the weathered planks of the launching ramp, his hands gripping the cold iron railing, and watched the last light of an English autumn bleed into the river. Behind him, the hull of the Blackwood rose from the darkness—a leviathan of riveted steel, her lines clean and ruthless, her...0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 5 Views 0 önizleme
Daha Hikayeler