The Golden Farce

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2026-08-20 10:56:09 -

The Golden Farce

The gun jammed. It was a heavy thing. Iron. Cold. I held it with both hands. My fingers bled. The blood was red. It mixed with the grime. We were in the cellar. It was dark. It was damp. The air smelled of wet stone and fear. Old Silas stood before me. He was small. He wore a coat of brown wool. It was patched. The patches were yellowed. He held a lantern. The flame shook. He looked at me. He...

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