The Golden Scar

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 22:10:19 -

The Golden Scar

Margaret sat in the dark of her cell. The floor was concrete. It smelled of damp and old rust. She held a small ceramic bowl in her hands. It was warm. Inside, a thick, amber liquid sloshed gently. It smelled of burnt sugar and iron. She did not drink it. She watched it. The liquid was not water. It was not tea. It was the residue of the last person she had spoken to. The person whose name she...

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