The Faded Root

added blog Literature

2026-08-23 05:12:21 -

The Faded Root

The muzzle of the revolver was still warm. I wiped the soot from the barrel with a rag that smelled of wet wool and coal dust. Outside, the rain hammered against the precinct windows, a rhythmic drumming that matched the pounding in my ears. I was Thomas Bradshaw, a constable in Oakhaven, and I had just killed three men. Or so the Sheriff said. The gun in my hand, the Faded Root, hummed against...

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