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03/03/2006
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The Whispering WillowThe Highlands of Scotland are a place where the veil between the world of the living and the world of the forgotten is as thin as a moth's wing. Alistair lived in a manor that had been in his family for four hundred years, a place of heavy velvet curtains, rain-streaked windows, and a silence that felt like a physical presence. Alistair was a poet, but he had stopped writing. He spent his days...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 0 Ansichten 0 BewertungenBitte loggen Sie sich ein, um liken, teilen und zu kommentieren!
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The Clay DreamThe gallery was smaller than Dick expected. Not the kind of space that announced itself with big windows and bold lettering, but the kind that hid in the ground floor of a brick building on Avenue C, reachable only by a flight of stairs that smelled of boiled cabbage and old paint. He was looking for a place to sell a painting he hadn't finished, but the first thing he saw when he walked in was...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 0 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Valedictorian of Cotton CreekThe Valedictorian of Cotton Creek The heat in Cotton Creek is not weather. It is a character. It sits in every room, presses against every window, makes you breathe through your mouth and taste the dust and think about things you would rather not think about because thinking requires air and the air here is too thick for clear thought. I am Daisy May Fontenot, and I am seventeen years old, and...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The House on Cedar LaneThe house on Cedar Lane had been empty for ten years, but the vines had not stopped growing. They climbed the brick walls like green veins, thick and persistent, their leaves dark and glossy in the humid Mississippi air. The roof sagged in the middle, and the front porch had collapsed inward, but the house still stood, stubborn and decaying, the way everything stubborn and decaying did in...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE LAST GREAT GATSBY'S WARACT I: THE JAZZ CLUB (20%) The piano player at Le Diable Noir was playing a tune Nick Calloway had never heard but felt he had lived. It was slow and sad and sounded like a man walking through a room where everything he had loved had been taken, and he didn't know when it happened or by whose hand, so he just kept walking. Nick sat at the bar with a whiskey that was half water and watched the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Immortal ClubAct I She walked into my office wearing a black dress like a funeral invitation. The rain had been falling on Sunset Boulevard since dawn, the kind of steady Los Angeles drizzle that gets into your bones and stays. My office was on the third floor of a building that smelled of boiled cabbage and old cigars. The sign on the door said Jack Cole, Private Investigations, in letters that had faded...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Catalyst of ChangeThe town of Ironbridge was a smudge of soot on the English landscape, a place where the air tasted of sulfur and the children grew up with grey lungs. Thomas was a young engineer who had returned to his hometown with a degree from London and a dangerous idea: that the workers who fueled the empire deserved a share of its wealth. He found Gabriel in the depths of the "Pit," a private prison run...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 6 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Reverse ManThe notebook was found in the back seat of cab 4-72-M, left under the seat by a passenger who had ridden with Max Cohen on the night shift between February 3rd and February 4th, 2018. Max found it when he was cleaning the car, the way he cleaned every morning at five: vacuum, wipe, spray, wipe again. The smell of cheap lemon cleaner and stale cigarette smoke. The cab was his office, his home,...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Gilded CoilThe city of New York in the 1920s was a fever dream of gold and gasoline, a place where the air tasted of ozone and expensive cigars. In a penthouse overlooking the shimmering sprawl of Manhattan lived a man named Julian Vane. To the high society of the Jazz Age, Vane was an eccentric philanthropist, a man of immense wealth and impenetrable mystery who hosted the most exclusive salons in the...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 7 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Fire of Entropy(V-09: Tragic Romance) The world was a tomb of white ice. For three hundred years, the Great Frost had held the earth in a grip of absolute zero. The survivors lived in the Deep Cities, huddling around the dying embers of geothermal vents, their lives measured in calories and oxygen. Kaelen was a heretic. While others preached the virtue of conservation and the necessity of the cold, Kaelen...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 6 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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THE SIGNAL FROM LILY BRENNANThe office was on State Street, third floor of a building that smelled of boiled cabbage and old plumbing and the faint, sweet-sour smell of whiskey that seeped up from the bar downstairs. It was a small office—just a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet that stuck when you pulled the second drawer, and a window that looked out over a brick wall so close I could touch it if I leaned far enough out...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 5 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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The Magnolia TangleThe Magnolia Tangle I The shutter wouldn't stay closed. Clara Beaumont hammered it with a fist that had lost its softness somewhere between girlhood and the woman she was becoming, and the wood groaned but held, and the wind came through anyway because that is what wind does in Magnolia Springs -- it finds the places you've sealed and reminds you that sealing is an illusion. She was nineteen,...0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 10 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen
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