The Faded Bouquet

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 17:45:54 -

The Faded Bouquet

The bell above the door did not ring. It clanged. A dull, wet sound. Like a stone dropped in mud. Silas stood behind the counter. He was old. His hands were maps of veins. Blue and white. He looked at the jar. The jar was full. Not of honey. Not of sugar. Of teeth. Human teeth. Molars. Incisors. Canines. They sat in a slurry of black syrup. The syrup smelled of iron. And rot. Silas did not...

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