The Moon Is Shattered
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Dark Fantasy


Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The dizzying heat, the mosquitoes trying to nibble at his neck and the rum must have triggered some hidden mechanism inside John Leight, because all of a sudden he chuckled and said the most ridiculous thing.

“Last night I dreamt Agatha tore my fingers off.”

Richard, who had been babbling animatedly now grew quiet.

“There was a man who had nightmares such as yours. He dreamt of Agatha Regant and fell gravely ill. He is dead. His cousin, Madeline Locke, swears Agatha is a witch.”


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