The Golden Cellar
The cellar beneath the old mill did not smell of damp earth or rot, but of gold, a thick, metallic sweetness that hung in the air like a promise we were too poor to keep. We had gathered there, the entire family, my father, my mother, and my two younger sisters, huddled around a single candle that burned with a strange, amber flame, its light reflecting off the walls which were lined not with...
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