-
159 المنشورات
-
0 الصور
-
0 الفيديوهات
-
Male
-
09/07/1997
-
متابَع بواسطة 0 أشخاص
التحديثات الأخيرة
-
A Star for VictoriaJulian Hart played piano in a bar that smelled of bourbon and cigarette smoke and the faint, sweet rot of old wood. The bar was in Greenwich Village, and it was called The Blue Note, though it had nothing to do with jazz and everything to do with the fact that the walls were painted blue, a deep, peeling blue that looked like midnight under the gas lamps. Julian was twenty-two years old, and he...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 4 مشاهدة 0 معاينةالرجاء تسجيل الدخول , للأعجاب والمشاركة والتعليق على هذا!
-
Echoes in the AshesThe rain in Los Angeles doesn't wash anything clean. It just makes the dirt wetter. That's the first thing you need to understand about this city if you're going to understand me, or what I did, or why I'm sitting here at three in the morning with a cup of coffee that went cold two hours ago and the radar screen still flickering in front of me like some kind of mechanical heartbeat. My name is...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 5 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
THE MIRROR OF MANY FACESThe machine hummed like a trapped insect, and Dorian watched the needles on the dials twitch as his own brainwaves were drawn up from his skull through wires and electrodes and copper coils and vacuum tubes and everything else he had built from parts scavenged from laboratories and flea markets and the corpses of old telegraphs. He closed his eyes and focused on his own thoughts—simple,...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 2 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
The Canvas of Forgotten SkiesI arrived on Veridia in the sixty-third cycle of the Colonial Assessment Year, carrying a cultural survey tablet and a skepticism that I now recognize as the professional arrogance of someone who had never encountered a world that refused to be categorized. Veridia was a mistake of the oldest kind — not a deliberate error but an incremental one, the sort that happens when a committee decides...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 5 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
The Double Life of Thomas VanceThomas Vance opened the bookshop at nine in the morning and he closed it at six in the evening and he did exactly the same thing every day for three years. He straightened the books. He wiped the counter. He drank tea from a cup that said World's Best Bookseller in letters that were chipped and fading. He watched the people walk past the window and he thought about nothing. This was exactly...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 10 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
ACT IDr. Julian Frost found his own biography in a Taiping archival document, written in 1854—twenty years before he was born. The discovery happened on a Tuesday, in the imperial archives of Tianjing, where Julian had spent the last three months cataloging rebel propaganda and religious texts for his forthcoming Oxford publication. He was thirty-two, a man of meticulous habits and rational...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 13 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
ACT IThe Beauregard plantation looked like a dying animal: magnificent once, now skeletal, its ribs of white columns protruding through peeling paint like bone through rotting flesh. Elias Thorne stood at the gate and felt something he hadn't felt since Boston, something that was almost sympathy. He had come south as a Union intelligence officer, armed with maps and coded messages and a conviction...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 12 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
The Heir of RotThe Blackwood Estate did not sit upon the land; it festered within it. In the heart of the Mississippi Delta, where the air was a thick soup of humidity and decay, the manor stood as a monument to a lineage of madness. Silas was the last of the Blackwoods, a pale youth with eyes the color of stagnant pond water. Silas did not choose his path; the path had been carved for him in the basement's...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 5 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
The gas pump clicked off. Eighteen gallons. Forty-two dollars. Dale Henderson stood there with the nozzle, wearing a Ford plant shirt faded to gray. Three years since the plant closed.Ray came out of the office counting cigarettes. "You oughta drive somewhere. Not here. Not Dayton. Somewhere that isn't here." Dale's Chevy coughed twice and started. He drove out on I-70. In rural Indiana, a girl at a pump, hands shaking. Full-body shake, not tremor. Left hand bruised around knuckles. She paid in cash. Got four dollars back. In a nameless town, a motel sign reading VACANCY in...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 13 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
The Lawful Woman## Act I The house at Bayou Rouge had been built in 1842 by a man named Jacques Thibodeaux, who had made his fortune in sugar and cotton and the quiet, unacknowledged labor of people whose names do not appear in any ledger. By the time Ester Thibodeaux married into the house in 1955, the sugar fields had gone to seed, the cotton was a memory, and the house stood on a bluff overlooking the bayou...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 15 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
The Obsidian BondIn the neon-drenched sprawl of San Junipero, where the rain tasted of copper and the skyscrapers were laced with holographic vines, Julian lived in the "Low-Light"—the subterranean layers of the city where the sunlight was a paid subscription and the law was a suggestion. He was a "Splicer," a black-market surgeon who could weave synthetic nerves into organic flesh, turning broken people into...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 16 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
-
The Ashes of Manchester**OTMES Code**: [WE-V01-TRG-IND-20260510] | TI: 92.1 | Style: Victorian Industrial Elegy *Dear Diary — or what passes for one in a world where even thought is catalogued and filed.* ## Act I: The Rising Water (20%) The water rose three feet in the night. I know this because I measured it — not out of hope, but out of habit. In the Factory City, habit is the only prayer left. I stood in the...0 التعليقات 0 المشاركات 17 مشاهدة 0 معاينة
المزيد من المنشورات