The Golden Harbor
The loom clicked. It was a dry, wooden sound. Like bone striking bone. Elias sat in the corner. The light was thin. Grey. It came through the high window. It cut a square on the floor. He did not look at it. He looked at the thread. The thread was red. It was not wool. It was not silk. It was hair. Long, dark hair. It stretched from the spindle to the needle. It was tight. It hummed. A low,...
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