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172 المنشورات
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0 الصور
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0 الفيديوهات
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Male
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15/02/1968
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متابَع بواسطة 0 أشخاص
التحديثات الأخيرة
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The house smelled of river and rot and jasmine, which is not a combination you encounter every day unless you live on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi in August.Eleanor Beauregard stood on the front porch and let the humidity wrap around her like a wet sheet. Ten years. Ten years since she had last stood here, and the house had not changed—still sagging at the corners, still painted a white that had turned the color of old teeth, still surrounded by magnolia trees whose roots had long ago cracked the foundation into a mosaic of regret. The key was...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 0 مشاهدة 0 معاينةالرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
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THE PHOTOGRAPHER AT GROUND ZEROACT I: THE SHUTTER (20%) The photograph appeared on page three of The Metropolitan Ledger, beneath the headlines about stock prices and the theatre season. It showed a soldier—Tommy couldn't tell you which side, and neither could anyone else—kneeling in the ruins of a building, holding a child. The child might have been three years old. The child might have been five. The soldier's face was...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 0 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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THE SILVER VEILBampton, Yorkshire, 1888 The mist clung to the moors like a shroud, and in the narrow streets of Bampton, where the cobbles gleamed wet under gaslight and the wind carried the salt-tang of the North Sea, a woman arrived who would change everything. Her name was Lin Meiling, though she told people to call her Mary Lin. She came with two trunks and a small iron box of tools, renting the ground...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 3 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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Manhattan ProtocolThe library smelled like old paper and ambition, which in Manhattan was basically the same thing. Maya Torres sat at her usual table—third from the back, closest to the window, where she could see the Empire State Building if she angled her head just right and ignored the fact that she was supposed to be studying for a mathematics competition she didn\'t need to win. She won things anyway. It...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 5 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Detective Who Wouldn't BowThe woman who walked into my office had hair the colour of rust and eyes the colour of something that had been crying recently. She wore a black dress that cost more than my annual rent and shoes that had never walked on broken glass. She was everything Los Angeles pretended to be and was not. "I need you to find my husband," she said. I lit a cigarette. "That's what everyone says." "My husband...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 9 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Ritual of the Ivory CrownThe Cathedral of St. Jude was a mountain of stone and stained glass, a place where the air was thick with incense and the echoes of a thousand years of prayer. Father Julian was the cathedral's guardian, a man who believed that purity was the only shield against the dark. The Angel of Sorrow was not a demon, though the Inquisitors called it one. It was a spirit of translucent white, with wings...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 8 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Theatre of Repeating MurdersAct I: The Script The Shoreditch Empire Theatre had staged three hundred and forty-two productions in its forty-seven years of existence. It had housed tragedies, comedies, farces, and one memorable pantomime where a horse fell through the stage. It had never staged a murder. Until the night Sarah Darrow was found dead in the dressing room that had once belonged to Ellen Terry. Edward Markham,...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 8 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Mutation of Francis ColeThe selection pressure was simple: survive the abandonment. Frank Kowalski had been a truck driver for twenty-three years before the departure. He had been a husband for sixteen. He had been a father for twelve. And then, in the space of a single Tuesday afternoon—a valve inspection that he missed because he was in the break room eating a sandwich and thinking about nothing in particular—he...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 6 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Honest CityThe Jazz Age in New York was a fever dream of gold and gin, a glittering masquerade where everyone was selling something, and the only currency that mattered was the appearance of success. Julian Vance walked through the neon-lit streets of Manhattan not as a participant in the dance, but as its architect. Julian had returned from the Great War with a chest full of medals and a soul full of...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 13 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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The Last Harvest of Georgia(V-14: Southern Gothic Redemption) The red clay of Georgia had a way of holding onto things—the heat, the humidity, and the sins of the fathers. Silas Vance had spent sixty years as a man of iron and hate. He had been the unofficial law of the county, a man whose word was a decree and whose anger was a storm. He had built his life on a foundation of bigotry, believing that the world was divided...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 9 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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Title: The Anatomy of a Monster(Act I: The Outset) The gated community of Silver Oaks was a masterpiece of suburban deception, where every lawn was manicured and every secret was buried beneath three feet of pristine mulch. I lived in the attic of the Thorne manor, a ghost in a house of mirrors. Four years ago, my parents had been 'removed' from the social register in a scandal that left me an orphan of the elite. I spent...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 6 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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THE PEOPLE'S ENGINE### Act I: The Spark James Callahan first understood what engineering meant at the age of twelve, when he was sent into the depths of the Homestead Steel Plant to unclog a jammed conveyor belt that had brought the entire rolling mill to a halt. The foreman had given him a choice: crawl through the gap between two moving rollers, or watch his father lose a week's wages for the downtime. James...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 12 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
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