Matthew F. Amati

Where Things Matt Writes Are

Harp for a Broken Hand

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The young Lady Drain lives in a dreary Compound, with no friends or siblings, and no companion except the cynical Bag, a sack of gravel from the driveway. When the visiting Lady Wince steals a prophecy meant for Drain, the latter pours a grave-wind over Lady Wince, inadvertently burning her face away to the bone. Haunted by dark dreams, and crippled by a strange metal toy, Drain and Bag venture through a surreal landscape to find their enemy and ask forgiveness. Meanwhile, a Monoceros, alive on his right side and dead on his left, seeks the Unrealtor who tried to kill him and half-missed.

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