The Golden Echoes
The fire started in the cellar. It smelled of wet wool and old yeast. I was holding the bucket. My hands shook. Not from cold. From fear. I am a man of the law. I carry a badge. I carry a gun. But I could not stop the flames. They licked the shelves. They ate the barrels. My name is Thomas Bradshaw. I am the constable of this house. This is not a house. It is a prison. It is a castle. The walls...
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