Unformatted text preview: 's skull broken and blood flowing out of her head and her heart. No one was here now to stop Mona from dropping down to her knees and laying her hands on the very stones. For one flashing instant, she thought she saw Antha, a girl of eighteen, with big dead eyes, and an emerald necklace tangled with blood and hair. But again, this was making pictures. You couldn't be sure they were any more than imagination, especially when you'd heard the stories all your life as Mona had, and dreamed so many strange dreams. Gifford sobbing at the kitchen table at Amelia Street. "That house is evil, evil, I tell you. Don't let Mona go up there." "Oh, nonsense, Gifford, she wants to be the flower girl in Rowan Mayfair's wedding. It's an honor." It certainly had been an honor. The greatest family wedding ever. And Mona had loved it. If it hadn't been for Aunt Gifford watching her, Mona would have made a sneaky search of the whole First Street house that very afternoon, while everyone else swilled c...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10