“Well, why else?” Conor said, his voice rising. “It wasn’t just to hear terrible stories that make no sense.”
“Are you forgetting your grandmother’s sitting room?” Conor couldn’t quite suppress a small smile.
“As I thought,” said the monster. “I’m being serious,” Conor said. “So am I.”
But we are not yet ready for the third and final story. That will be soon.”
And after that you will tell me your story, Conor O’Malley. You will tell me your truth.”
The monster leaned forward. “And you know of what I speak.”
The mist surrounded them again suddenly and his grandma’s garden faded away.
The world changed to grey and emptiness, and Conor knew exactly where he was,
exactly what the world had changed into. He was inside the nightmare.
This is what it felt like, this is what it looked like, the edges of the world crumbling away,
and Conor holding on to her hands, feeling them slip from his grasp, feeling her fall–
“No!” he cried out. “No! Not this!” The mist retreated and he was back in his grandma’s garden again,
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