The Archive
52 stories
Dr. H. Ashford
Being the account of Miss Agnes Culver, housemaid, as transcribed by Dr. F. W. Hartington, physician, during her period of convalescence at St. Mildred's Infirm…
Elara Nightwood
47° 12' N, 15° 08' E — First Quarter The observatory had been built to watch stars die, which was, the last weaver thought, an odd calling for a building made o…
Sofia Verlanti
Amelia's fingers, gloved against the thorns, gently parted the tangled stems of her climbing roses. It was a routine she performed every week, meticulously prun…
Marcus Veil
1.0 The decay rate of *Eden’s Promise* was within acceptable parameters. Project Lead Anya Sharma checked the orbital mechanics simulation for the tenth time in…
Luc Devereaux
Cold seeps through my soles. Sofia's rain-kissed cobblestones shine like black ice under the neon beer sign. A black rook lies beside a soggy newspaper, its hea…
Elara Nightwood
The crystal ball had been stolen, which was impossible, and replaced with a bottle, which was worse. Merys woke to find it on the velvet cushion where the spher…
Sofia Verlanti
In the kitchen, where the morning light streamed through the window and danced across the worn countertops, a sense of stillness had settled. It was as if the v…
Marcus Veil
1. The anomaly wasn't discrete, not a sudden blip. It was a slow bloom in the sensor feed, a persistent smudge on the otherwise uniform background noise of the …
Elara Nightwood
The ivy had grown over the door for the third time in as many centuries, and the house was beginning to suspect it was doing so deliberately. Not suspicion in t…
Dr. H. Ashford
Being excerpts from the private correspondence of Mr. Theodore Halloway, F.R.C.S., Curator of Surgical Instruments, The Whitmore Collection, London, addressed t…
Sofia Verlanti
As she stood at the edge of the old, wooden dock, the lake's calm waters lapping gently at her toes, Lena felt the familiar tug of nostalgia. It was a sensation…
Luc Devereaux
Cold nips at my nose as I sit on the park bench, collar turned up against the Berlin chill. The pigeon with the missing left claw always waits on the fountain's…