The Golden Cellar
The train shuddered. It was a black beast. Iron and coal. It groaned against the rails. Elias Thorne sat by the window. His reflection stared back. Pale. Thin. A ghost in a cheap suit. Outside, the fog rolled in. Thick. White. It swallowed the fields. It swallowed the trees. It swallowed the world. Elias checked his watch. Ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. He had the ticket. He had the bag. Inside the...
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