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Irene Rose Jones has not received any gifts yet
I woke in a fright, sweat beading my forehead. It was that dream again. That recurring dream of death and destruction. I looked at the clock, midnight. Time I was up. I raked the fire till the embers glowed, laying kindling and a slice of peat on top.
I lived deep down under Farmer O'Connell's chicken coop in a burrow. At first it was just going to be somewhere to sleep; somewhere…Continue