The Golden Farce

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2026-08-20 17:24:26 -

The Golden Farce

The loaf was gone. Not eaten. Not stolen. Gone. I sat on the cold stone bench in the town square. My hands were empty. I had held it for three days. A small, round loaf of rye. Dark crust. Soft heart. It smelled of yeast and fire. It was my only possession. My only warmth. My name is Elara. I am twelve. I am hungry. The town of Oakhaven was grey. The houses were tall and narrow, like standing...

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