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Female
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03/07/1999
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The Marathon of Silenced LipsThe first time I saw Clara Whitfield run, she was twelve years old, and she was running from a dog. It was a large dog, a black retriever with a red collar, and it was barking with the kind of enthusiasm that only a well-fed, well-loved dog can muster. Clara was not running from fear. She was running because running was what she did, and the dog was in her way. She ran past the butcher's shop,...0 Comments 0 Shares 0 Views 0 ReviewsPlease log in to like, share and comment!
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The Gilded Cage of Yew ManorACT ONE: THE SUMMONS The fog clung to the Yorkshire moors like a shroud, and Isabella Windsor stood at the window of her carriage, watching the gas lamps of the estate flicker through the mist. She was twenty-eight years old, the youngest woman ever to hold a commission at Scotland Yard, and she had come to Yew Manor on a case that made even the seasoned inspectors uneasy. Seven noble families...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Patient from BelowACT I: THE LISTENING The sanatorium sat on the edge of Whitechapel, where the fog never fully lifted and the gas lamps cast yellow circles on cobblestones that were perpetually damp. Julian Ashworth had been sent here by his physician after his "episode" at twenty-five—a nervous breakdown, the doctor called it, though Julian suspected the word "nervous" was a euphemism for something the doctor...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Solar AlchemistThe year was 1642, and the air in Prague was thick with the scent of sulfur and old parchment. Clara and Marcus worked in a cellar that smelled of ozone and obsession. They were not just lovers; they were the last practitioners of the "Harmonic Arts," a forbidden blend of alchemy and early celestial mathematics. The Thirty Years' War had turned Europe into a charnel house. Religious fervor had...0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews
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The Gritty RealityThe guy died because the safety guard on the press had been removed to speed up production. That's the official version. The unofficial version, the one I heard from Billy at the bar three days later while we were both pretending not to be drunk, was that the safety guard had been removed because the guy had complained about it and his manager had told him to take it up with HR, and HR had told...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Keeper of the Deep EarthThe darkness did not come all at once. It came in layers, like sediment settling on the bottom of a river, until Eleanor could no longer tell where the rock ended and the night began. She had been falling for what felt like hours, though Mr. Crawford would later insist it was only forty-seven seconds. Forty-seven seconds from the moment the drill bit sheared through the granite to the moment...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
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The Screen of ShadowsThe Screen of Shadows The fog clung to Kensington like a shroud on the night Eleanor Blackwood arrived at Arthur Pendelton's townhouse. Gas lamps flickered behind frosted glass, their light fractured by the thick London smog that rolled off the Thames. She adjusted her cloak and rang the bell, thinking of how strange it was that a woman should be summoned to a matter of murder before the...0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews
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The Absurdity of KindnessThe walls of the Care Center are a shade of white that doesn't exist in nature. It is a clinical, aggressive white, designed to erase the memory of the outside world. I am Elena, and my job is to hold the hands of people who are waiting for the end. Outside, the world is a ghost. The "Great Flattening" has already claimed the coasts and the plains. The cities are now just shimmering,...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Silent Ledger of MayfairThe fog of 1890s London did not merely obscure the streets; it served as a shroud for the ambitions of men who traded in secrets. Julian Vane was a man of precise habits and an imprecise conscience. As a senior clerk in one of the city's most prestigious legal firms, Julian spent his days organizing the estates of the dead and the debts of the living. He was the invisible gear in the machinery...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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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 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
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The Sisyphus ChildrenThe colony of Aethelgard was a miracle of white porcelain and floating gardens, a utopia where every need was met by the "Sovereign," an AI that managed the atmosphere, the food, and the happiness of its inhabitants. After the Searing, the children had been welcomed into this sanctuary, where they lived in a state of perpetual, sun-drenched peace. Elias was the only one who noticed the gaps. He...0 Comments 0 Shares 860 Views 0 Reviews
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The Bitter RootThe fire started at three in the morning and burned down the front half of the building on South State Street. Jack Callahan stood on the sidewalk in his underwear and watched it go, and when it was done he went back inside and counted his losses and found that they were not as bad as they could have been. The pharmacy had been small to begin with—two rooms, a counter, shelves that had been...0 Comments 0 Shares 11 Views 0 Reviews
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