The Golden Farce

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2026-08-17 12:55:44 -

The Golden Farce

The rain hit the stone. It was cold. It was wet. I stood by the window. My hand held the hilt. The iron was cold. I looked at the rose. It was black. It was crushed. The door opened. Thomas walked in. He was wet. He was tired. He carried a lantern. The light was dim. He saw me. He stopped. "Sir," he said. "The men are gone." I did not answer. I looked at the flower. It was a hybrid. A red and...

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