-
214 Publicações
-
0 fotos
-
0 Vídeos
-
Male
-
18/02/1996
-
Seguido por 0 pessoas
Atualizações Recentes
-
The Vein of the Silver SwoonThe archive was forbidden not because it was dangerous, but because it was true. Cadet Jareth Voss discovered this in the sub-levels of the Imperial Athenaeum, in a section of the library that appeared on no map. The air down here was different—older, heavier, like the atmosphere in a room that had been sealed for centuries. The shelves were made of a dark metal that absorbed light rather than...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 AnteriorFaça Login para curtir, compartilhar e comentar!
-
The Smoke of East EndLondon in 1852 was a city of two worlds, separated by a veil of yellow sulfur smoke. Thomas lived in the East End, in a tenement that smelled of boiled cabbage and desperation. He was a broken man, his left arm a withered limb, a souvenir from a textile mill accident that had left him discarded like a piece of scrap iron. He found the boy, Arthur, in the mud of the Thames foreshore. The child...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Case of the Frozen Heart: A Dossier of SuspensionFILE: CASE-20673-S SUBJECT: Halloran, Kathleen DATE OF SUSPENSION: September 14, 1924 LOCATION: Shaw Laboratory, Queens, NY METHOD: Compound-X / Cryo-Suspension (Phase I) LOG ENTRY 1 (Dr. Eleanor Shaw): The subject exhibits a perfect synchronization with the chemical agent. Heart rate has decelerated to 2 BPM. Core temperature is stabilizing at 4 degrees Celsius. The husband, Jack Halloran,...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 17 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Plantation's BloodlineThe house on Whitaker Plantation was the kind of place that looked magnificent from the road and rotting from up close. White columns, a wraparound porch, windows tall and elegant. But the paint was peeling in long strips, the columns were cracked, and the porch sagged in the middle like a tired smile. Silas Whitaker stood at the gate and looked at the house and felt, for the first time in his...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 18 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Temperature at Which Steel Remembers It Was Once OreThe first ledger appeared in 1861, when Martin Krieger was twenty-three years old and the war had just begun to feed his furnaces. He bound it himself in calfskin from a tannery on Front Street, ruling the columns with a straightedge and India ink while the city slept. On the first page he wrote Steel Sold, Tons and beneath it entered the figure for February: forty-seven. By April it was two...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Sonnenblume ProtocolAct I: The Offer The man in the grey suit sat across from Marcus Reed in a café in Charlottenburg and did not once look at him directly. He looked at the table, at his coffee, at the window, at the street outside, but never at Marcus's face. It was either a tactic or a tic. Marcus could not tell which, and in Berlin in 1963, the difference rarely mattered. "I have a proposition," the man said....0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 27 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Ash ChroniclesThe world did not end with a bang, nor a whimper, but with a slow, rhythmic settling of grey. I am Leo, and I am the last librarian of a city that no longer has a name. New York is now a valley of salt and cinder, where the skyscrapers look like the blackened ribs of some prehistoric beast, stripped of their glass and skin. I do not remember the sky before the Ash. My father told me it was once...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 28 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, which was already wrong. Letters did not arrive on Tuesdays.This letter was on thick cream paper, the kind that cost more than it should. It contained three words: "Your husband is dead." No signature. No explanation. Just those three words, typed in a font that looked like it belonged to a typewriter from another decade. Eleanor March read the letter once, set it down, poured herself a second cup of coffee, and read it again. Same three words. Same...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 21 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Healing Touch of SilenceThe aftermath of the Great War had left Europe as a landscape of shattered stone and broken spirits. In a small, rain-drenched village in the Ardennes, where the forests were thick with the ghosts of fallen soldiers, lived Old Hans. Hans had once been a renowned military surgeon, but the horrors of the front had stolen his legs and his faith in the scalpel. He had retreated to a small cottage,...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 21 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Infinity MirrorThe laboratory hummed with a sound that Arthur Winslow could feel in his teeth. It was 1925, and the machine before him—no, not a machine, never a machine, that word was too small for what she had built—sat in its cooling bath of liquid nitrogen, its heart no larger than a playing card but its mind infinite. Evelyn Cross stood beside it, her dark hair falling across her face in the way that...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 20 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
Nothing Blue LeftThe factory had been dead for three years before Ray got the job. He wasn't really working. He was sitting in a chair in a building with no windows and watching cameras that showed nothing, because there was nothing to watch. The steel mill had closed in 2003, when Ray was thirty-nine, and now in 2005 he was forty-two and his job was to make sure nobody broke in and stole the pieces of...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 20 Visualizações 0 Anterior
-
The Tarantula of GlenmoristonThe storm had been building since afternoon, a low bruising of clouds gathering over the Glenmoriston valley like a wound that would not close. By evening, the wind was throwing itself against the stone walls of Dr. Alistair MacKenzie's cottage with the fury of something that had been kept out for too long and had decided to come in anyway. Alistair sat at his workbench, the lamplight throwing...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 21 Visualizações 0 Anterior
Mais Stories