The Wistful Cipher
The fire starts in the root cellar. It is not a warm fire. It is a hungry thing. It eats the potatoes. It eats the turnips. It eats the dark. You are in the shed. You are alone. The iron door is bolted. You know the sound of the flames. You know the smell of burning soil. You do not run. You sit on the cold concrete floor. You watch the light leak under the door. It is red. It is bright. It...
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