Invisible Traces · A Horror Story No. 29
What the Earth Is Owed
Alex Moonn
The Brandãos don't die far from Santa Clara, ma'am. Not even when they change their name.
For forty-five years, Marta filtered her water twice, never set foot in the ocean and changed her name, her city and her accent. In July 2011, a cab leaves her in front of a farm gate at eleven at night. Nobody sees her last night. At forty-one, her daughter learns, at a notary's office in São Bento do Jacamim, the surname her mother hid all her life: Brandão.
English edition, available on Amazon.
Read an excerpt
The gate is made of gray wood. My mother doesn't try to open it. She rests her hand on the left gatepost, on a dark stain the size of two open hands that gleams wet under the moon.
The wood is warm. Under her palm, a slow pulse beats, once every three seconds.
English edition, available on Amazon.
