Just a girl who walks dogs and hangs out in cemeteries. Stay feral, y'all.
The trouble began with a lasagna. Not an ordinary lasagna, either. This was a twelve-layer, three-cheese, homemade masterpiece that had taken four hours to prepare and nearly caused a minor electrical fire when the oven decided to express its dissatisfaction with the temperature. According to its creator, Natalie Brooks, the lasagna was an act of... Continue Reading →
Matilda Thistlewick had made a solemn promise to herself. She was going to have a normal Saturday. No spells, no curses, no accidental dimensional portals, and absolutely no magical emergencies requiring government intervention. Just an ordinary, peaceful Saturday involving a little shopping, a nice cup of tea, and perhaps a digestive biscuit or seventeen. After... Continue Reading →
Jessie didn't sleep. At three seventeen in the morning, she stopped pretending she was going to. She sat at her kitchen table with Daniel's cassette player in front of her, the brass key beside it and a glass of water she had poured two hours earlier and forgotten to drink. The apartment was silent except... Continue Reading →
The first thing Claire noticed after her mother died was how incredibly loud the silence had become. It filled every corner of her little house. It settled into the empty chair beside the window, lingered in the kitchen where her mother had once stood making tea, and followed Claire into the bedroom at night, where... Continue Reading →
Deep in the heart of Norway, surrounded by mountains, forests, and picturesque villages, lies Lake Mjøsa, the country's largest lake. Its waters have witnessed centuries of history, from the journeys of medieval travellers to the changing fortunes of Norwegian communities. But beneath its peaceful surface, according to an old and haunting legend, rests a church... Continue Reading →
Jessie had carried the brass key for twenty-four years. She had moved it from apartment to apartment, city to city and identity to identity. It had crossed borders with her. It had survived police searches, hurried departures, one flooded basement and at least three occasions when Jessie had thrown almost everything she owned into garbage... Continue Reading →
The first thing Caroline noticed when she opened her eyes was the sunlight. It was pouring through the curtains in long, golden ribbons, warming the blankets and casting little dancing shadows across her bedroom walls. Somewhere outside, a bird was singing with the enthusiasm of a creature that had never paid a bill, attended a... Continue Reading →
At the very end of a crooked cobblestone street, tucked between a bakery that smelled permanently of cinnamon and a bookstore that occasionally sold books which hadn't been written yet, stood a little shop called The House of Forgotten Things. Its windows were always fogged, even in the middle of summer. Its doorbell rang before... Continue Reading →
Jessie did not remember Sophie's face. That was the first thing that terrified her. She remembered the weight of the little girl's arms around her waist. She remembered laughter, the warmth of a small body pressed against her, and a voice calling her Aunt Jessie with the absolute confidence children reserved for people they believed... Continue Reading →
When twenty-three-year-old Amara Okafor arrived in Canada, she was prepared for many things. She was prepared for the freezing winters, or at least she thought she was. She was prepared for the difficult coursework at university, the long evenings studying, and the challenge of navigating a city where she didn't know a single soul. What... Continue Reading →
