The Golden Cellar
The cellar door slammed. Dust fell like snow. Leo stood alone. He was ten. Or twelve. Time was a broken clock here. The walls were stone. Cold. Wet. Breathing. He knew the way. He always knew the way. The house above was a cage. The cellar was the key. But the key had teeth. It bit. It bled. Leo looked at his hands. They were shaking. Not from cold. From fear. A small, sharp fear. The kind that...
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