0 Comments
0 Shares
6 Views
0 Reviews
Search
Discover new people, create new connections and make new friends
-
Please log in to like, share and comment!
-
A plate arrived at Lord Harrington's table that made silence spread through the room like a rumor.It was a beef bourguignon, dark as polished mahogany, sitting in a porcelain bowl the color of old ivory. Steam rose from it in thin grey threads, carrying the scent of red wine and thyme and something else—something that had no name in the language of cooking, but that every person in the room recognized immediately. It was the smell of being known. Lord Harrington lifted his spoon. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews
-
Absolute SilenceThe gallery was a cube of blinding white, located three floors beneath the pavement of Soho. There were no paintings, no sculptures, no pedestals. There was only a single, seamless wall of poured concrete that stretched from floor to ceiling. Arthur was an artist of the "Void School." He believed that all art was a failure because it attempted to represent something. To Arthur, the only true...0 Comments 0 Shares 10 Views 0 Reviews
-
Dust and SilenceThe beer was warm and tasted like metal, which is what beer tastes like when you drink it sitting on the tailgate of a truck that hasn't run in three years, in a valley that hasn't produced anything in five, with a sky that looks the same as it did yesterday and the day before that and the year before that. Wayne Harlowe didn't mind the taste. He had drunk worse. He had drunk a lot worse....0 Comments 0 Shares 23 Views 0 Reviews
-
Dust and Silence**Act I: The Last Green** The world ended not with a bang, but with a long, dry wheeze. By the year 2140, the oceans were salt-flats and the forests were charcoal. Elias lived in the "Grey Zone," a stretch of wasteland where the wind tasted of oxidized iron. He was a scavenger of seeds, a man who spent his life digging through the ruins of old botanical gardens, hoping to find a single viable...0 Comments 0 Shares 4 Views 0 Reviews
-
Frank Kowalski sat at the bar and drank a beer he did not enjoy. The TV above the mirror showed a baseball game with the sound off. Players moved across the screen in silence, swinging at pitches that made no sound, running bases that led nowhere.He had been drinking since four PM. It was eight now. His hands were on the bar top. The varnish was worn where generations of drinkers had rested their elbows, and his hands fit into the worn spots like they had been made for them. He had been unemployed for six months. His wife left three years ago. His son lived in Ohio and did not answer his phone. He came to this bar every day. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 26 Views 0 Reviews
-
Frank Kowalski sat at the bar and drank a beer he did not enjoy. The TV above the mirror showed a baseball game with the sound off. Players moved across the screen in silence, swinging at pitches that made no sound, running bases that led nowhere.He had been drinking since four PM. It was eight now. His hands were on the bar top. The varnish was worn where generations of drinkers had rested their elbows, and his hands fit into the worn spots like they had been made for them. He had been unemployed for six months. His wife left three years ago. His son lived in Ohio and did not answer his phone. He came to this bar every day. The...0 Comments 0 Shares 20 Views 0 Reviews
-
Gilded SilenceThe champagne was always colder than the conversations. I learned that lesson in 1925, in a ballroom on Long Island where the ceiling was painted with stars and the band played until four in the morning and nobody, absolutely nobody, talked about anything that wasn't beautiful, expensive, or both. My name is Charles Winthrop IV. The fourth is the important part—not because of the prestige,...0 Comments 0 Shares 18 Views 0 Reviews
-
Morning SilenceArthur woke at six. He always woke at six. Not because of an alarm clock—he did not have one. Not because of sunlight—the curtains were drawn and the room was dark. He woke at six because his body had been waking at six for twenty-three years and the body is a clock that does not need batteries and does not need to be wound and does not ask permission. He sat up. He put his feet on the floor....0 Comments 0 Shares 33 Views 0 Reviews
-
Mud and SilenceThe rain in the Mekong Delta doesn't fall. It rises. Sergeant O'Malley said this once, during a patrol that lasted four hours and covered three hundred meters, and then he said it again during the next patrol, and then he said it again during the one after that, until the words lost meaning and became just sounds, like the sound of rain or the sound of insects or the sound of a man breathing...0 Comments 0 Shares 26 Views 0 Reviews
-
Parallel SilenceThe apartment was a white cube in the sky, a minimalist sanctuary of polished concrete and floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the indifferent sprawl of Manhattan. Ian lived there in a state of curated stillness. He was a financial analyst, a man who dealt in the absolute certainty of numbers, and his life was a series of optimized routines. And then there was Maya. Maya had returned...0 Comments 0 Shares 24 Views 0 Reviews
-
Between the TidesBetween the Tides The dogs arrived on a Tuesday in November, which was the time of year when Port Moray stopped pretending it was a town and accepted that it was a collection of buildings on a headland at the edge of the Atlantic, battered by wind and salt and the indifferent attention of people who passed through on their way to somewhere else. Professor William Hawthorne found them on the...0 Comments 0 Shares 14 Views 0 Reviews
-
Night at the PortNight at the Port The first dog died on a Tuesday. Det. James Park found the body at dawn, stranded on the rocks below Pier 35 in the San Francisco Bay Area. It was a German shepherd, large and muscular, with a collar that looked expensive and had no tags. The dog was dead, but the cause of death was not. There were no external injuries. No blood, no wounds, no signs of struggle. The coroner...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Guardian's PathThe Guardian's Path The first sign was the trucks. Dr. Elena Vasquez saw them on a Thursday morning, driving up the mountain road that she alone had used for three years to reach her research station at the top of Blackwood Ridge. They were gray military-style vehicles with no markings, carrying equipment that did not belong in an abandoned section of the Appalachian trail system. Elena pulled...0 Comments 0 Shares 6 Views 0 Reviews
-
The Silent TestimonyThe Silent Testimony Margaret Ashworth had lived in Haven's End for twenty-three years and had never once felt afraid of the Haven family. They were old money, yes, but old money in a town of twelve thousand people was not something to be afraid of. It was something to nod at from a distance, to accept as part of the landscape the way you accepted the weather or the tides or the fact that the...0 Comments 0 Shares 5 Views 0 Reviews
More Results
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Italiano
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek