The Golden Cellar
The air in the cellar is thick. It tastes of copper and old rain. You are not supposed to be here. The doors are locked. The keys are rusted shut in the pocket of a coat that no longer fits your father’s thinning frame. But you are here. Your name is Elias. You are the anomaly. You are the one who hears the hum beneath the floorboards. Your father, Thomas, stands at the top of the stairs. He is...
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