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172 Publicações
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Female
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23/10/1963
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Sample V-14: The Mirror of Sanity(Style F: Psychological Thriller) Ward 7 was a place where the walls were the color of old teeth and the air smelled of antiseptic and despair. Nurse Elena was known for her "infinite patience," the only person who could handle the patients in the high-security wing. She believed in the order of the clinic, the safety of the medication, and the clarity of the diagnostic charts. Patient 402 was...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 0 Visualizações 0 AnteriorFaça Login para curtir, compartilhar e comentar!
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The RouteThe heat in Mississippi was a physical thing. It pressed down on the state like a hand, heavy and unyielding, and by mid-July it had turned the dirt roads to powder and the air to soup. Ellis Foster sat on the porch of his sharecropper's cabin, a glass of sweet tea sweating on the table beside him, listening to the cicadas scream and the耳鸣 ring in his left ear. The耳鸣 was a high-pitched whine...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 0 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The-Aether-EngineThe Aether Engine ACT I — RISING The rain in London did not fall so much as it seeped — through cobblestone and fog, through the grey wool of overcoats, through the very bones of men who had forgotten the colour of sunlight. In a narrow house on Mortimer Street, beneath a sign that read simply "A. Blackwood – Natural Philosophy," Arthur Blackwood bent over his greatest invention. The machine...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 0 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Diamond LedgerThe boardroom of Thorne International was a cathedral of glass and steel, overlooking the glittering sprawl of Manhattan. Sloane sat at the end of the table, her expression a mask of professional neutrality. Beside her, Pierce was delivering a presentation on the acquisition of a European luxury group. To the board members, Sloane was the perfect corporate wife—elegant, supportive, and entirely...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 7 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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THE QUIET ENDFrank O'Malley woke at six in the morning. It was not an alarm clock that woke him. It was the habit of waking at six, established twelve years ago in a base camp in the Ho Chi Minh Trail and never broken, even after he broke everything else. He lay in the dark. The apartment was small—one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen that was really just a corner with a stove and a refrigerator the size of...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 11 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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THE DARK CIRCUITThe radio in the break room had been broken for three weeks and Jack Murdock kept meaning to fix it and kept not meaning to fix it, which was typical of Jack Murdock—he kept meaning to do things and kept not doing them, which was how you ended up thirty-four years old, drafted into a war you didn't understand, fixing electrical equipment in a hole beneath the earth. "Come on, you old bitch," he...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 6 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The rain on the window of Stage Seven. That was how it began. The rain streakingEleven years. I'd been twenty-eight for eleven years. But the mirror remembered differently. The skin around my eyes had that gray, papery look. Like old film left too close to a light. And the sores on my arms. Hidden under long sleeves. Months now. I'd blamed the studio lights. The stress. The cheap whiskey. None of them wrong. None of them the whole truth. The vials under the sink. Amber...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Neon Debt (V-04: Noir)The rain in Sector 4 didn't wash anything away; it just smeared the neon grime across the pavement. Kane sat in his hover-car, the glow of a synthetic cigarette illuminating the deep lines of a face that had seen too many dead ends. He was a recovery agent—a polite term for a man who found things that didn't want to be found. His latest job was personal. Sarah, the only thing in this chrome...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 7 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Canvas of HopeJulian was a man who had forgotten how to see. A painter in the rolling hills of Provence, he had spent years in a grey depression, his brushes dry and his canvases blank. He felt that the world had lost its color, and he was merely a ghost haunting his own studio, surrounded by the skeletal remains of paintings he could no longer finish. He rescued a fox from a small, cruel trap in the...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 7 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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The Song of the Frozen Soul(Gothic Style) The village of Oakhaven was a place where the winter never ended. The snow fell in heavy, silent sheets, burying the houses in a white shroud. The villagers lived in a state of perpetual fear, not of the cold, but of the silence that followed the wind. Isabella was a woman of books and shadows. She had spent her youth in the Great Library of the North, studying the "Liturgy of...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 7 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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V-02: The Gilded EchoThe New York of 1924 was a city of gold and ghosts. Julian lived in a penthouse that felt like a gilded cage, surrounded by the roar of jazz and the clink of crystal, yet he moved through the parties like a phantom. He was a painter of shadows, a man who sought a purity that the era of excess had long since discarded. In the attic of a crumbling brownstone in the Village, Julian found her. She...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 8 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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THE DEAD SIGNALThe woman came into my office on a Wednesday, which was good because Wednesdays were the only day of the week when I felt like I could handle other people's problems without wanting to leave the city. Thursdays I just wanted to drink. Fridays I was too drunk to care. But Wednesdays—Wednesdays I was functional. Her name was Diana Reyes. Thirty-two, black suit that cost more than my car, eyes...0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 8 Visualizações 0 Anterior
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