The Golden Scar

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 00:25:13 -

The Golden Scar

The iron gate rusted brown. It did not creak. It stayed still. Margaret Holloway stood before it. Her hands were in her pockets. They were empty. She had nothing to give. She had nothing to take. The air smelled of wet ash. It smelled of old paper. It smelled of the hospital where her son lay. The hospital was a box. The box had bars. The bars were gold. No, not gold. Steel. Painted gold. A lie...

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