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07/04/1993
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THE SPARK BEARERSThe dust came on April 14, 1935. We called it Black Sunday, and for three days the sky turned the color of a bruise and the wind howled like an animal trapped in a chimney, and the dust filled every crack and crevice of the sod schoolhouse until we were eating it, breathing it, sleeping in it. Mr. Hartwell kept teaching. He stood at the blackboard, his back to us, writing equations with a piece...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 BewertungenBitte loggen Sie sich ein, um liken, teilen und zu kommentieren!
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The Gospel of Dust(V-09: Southern Gothic) The town of Oakhaven did not exist on any official map, but for those who lived within the shadow of the weeping willows, it was the center of the universe. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting jasmine, and the houses were leaning skeletons of white paint and gray mold. In the center of this decay stood the Tabernacle of the Eternal Light, and...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Architecture of PainVienna at the turn of the century was a city of velvet and decay. In the gilded salons, people spoke of Freud and the unconscious, while in the shadows, the old world was slowly strangling itself. Dr. Valerius lived in a house that was a temple to the mind's hidden corridors. I remember the first time I saw Clara. She was a porcelain doll with a hairline fracture in her soul. She came to me...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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Three Versions of Theodore AshfordThree Versions of Theodore Ashford In one version of the story, which we will call Version A, Theodore Ashford never went to the war. He was declared medically unfit for service due to a congenital heart murmur that had been diagnosed when he was twelve years old and that had prevented him from playing football at Harvard and from enlisting in the summer of 1917, when all of his classmates were...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The patient from belowDr. Eleanor Hart had been coming to the Blackwood Institute for three weeks when she first heard the word transfiguration. The patient who said it was in Room 217—the highest security room on the fourth floor, where the walls were padded with beige fabric that had been stained by decades of fingerprints, heads thrown against them in moments of despair, and hands pressed flat in moments of...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The jazz of fading starsThe music was dying, and nobody wanted to admit it. Not in New York, where the music was everything. Not in Chicago, where the music was the only thing. And certainly not in Julian Ashford, who had spent the last five years composing jazz that made people dance because they were afraid of what would happen when the music stopped. It was 1925, and the city was drowning in its own prosperity....0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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Sample V-09: The Crown of Paradox(Style C: Tragic Romance) Florence in 1512 was a city of gold and blood. Julian was a man of the new age, a mathematician who believed that the universe was not a mystery to be feared, but a puzzle to be solved. He spent his nights in a hidden attic, surrounded by vellum scrolls and brass astrolabes, searching for the "Divine Ratio"—the formula that governed the folding of space. He found it in...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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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 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Patient from BelowThe asylum had been closed for twenty years before the Sleep came, but the children of Boston knew it by reputation the way children know about forbidden places: through whispers and warnings and the peculiar silence that falls over a room when someone mentions the Holloway Asylum in a voice that suggests they have been told not to speak of it at all. Theo Ashworth had never been inside. He was...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 8 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE WEIGHT OF NOTHING### Act I: The Spark Ethan Cross stood in the supermarket aisle for twelve minutes before making a decision. The decision was about cereal. There were fourteen brands on the shelf, from store-brand corn flakes at three dollars a box to artisanal granola at nine dollars, and Ethan was trying to choose one. Not because he was hungry—hunger was not the issue. The issue was that each choice carried...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 8 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Noir ApothecaryThe rain in Los Angeles didn't wash anything away; it just turned the grime into a mirror. Julian Black operated out of a room above a failing laundromat, where the air was a thick cocktail of ozone, old paper, and the bitter scent of crushed nightshade. Julian didn't sell cures. He sold "Silence." His clients were the city's elite—senators with blood on their hands, mob bosses with shaking...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 9 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Medicine ManI Jack Hudson woke up the way he always woke up: with pain in his left leg where the prosthetic attached to his stump, and the smell of coal dust still in his nose even though he had not been down a mine in six years. The prosthetic was old. It had been custom-made by a man in Lexington who knew what he was doing, but six years is a long time, and the man in Lexington was dead, and Jack had not...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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