The Golden Cellar

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2026-08-19 23:22:44 -

The Golden Cellar

The iron key was cold. It bit into my palm. I held it tight. The cellar door groaned. It was wood. Old wood. It smelled of rot and rain. I pushed. The hinges screamed. I stepped down. The stone was slick. My boots slipped. I caught the wall. The dark was thick. It pressed against my eyes. I could not see. I could only feel. The air was heavy. It tasted of dust. It tasted of time. I stood still....

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