Just a girl who walks dogs and hangs out in cemeteries. Stay feral, y'all.
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 →
There were three things Evelyn Hart knew with absolute certainty. The government had too many secrets, coffee was not nearly strong enough to compensate for a twelve-hour shift, and anyone who voluntarily worked in an underground archive probably had something fundamentally wrong with them. Unfortunately, Evelyn had been working in one for eleven years. Officially,... Continue Reading →
Gabriel did not react at first. Jessie had seen that kind of stillness before. It was not confusion. Confusion moved. It narrowed the eyes, tilted the head, searched the room for context. This was something else entirely. Gabriel's face had emptied, as though his mind had rejected Anna's words before they could become real. “My... Continue Reading →
When Claire Bennett bought the little blue house at the end of Willow Street, everyone thought she had lost her mind. Her mother called it “a charming opportunity to develop a nervous breakdown.” Her best friend, Sophie, said it looked like the sort of house where a Victorian ghost might demand rent. Even the real... Continue Reading →
Matilda Thistlewick had reached an age where she believed she deserved three things in life: comfortable shoes, uninterrupted afternoon naps, and the right to tell people to bugger off without providing an explanation. At one hundred and forty-four years old, she felt these were perfectly reasonable expectations. Well, the universe apparently had other plans. It... Continue Reading →
Gabriel did not speak for several minutes after Jessie announced they were all going to meet Evan. Jessie let the silence sit. There had been a time when silence made her uncomfortable. She would fill it with a threat, a joke, a question designed to force the other person to reveal something. Vale had taught... Continue Reading →
