Emily Taylor

“Are you serious?” Vlad’s voice wavered, though not from surprise—more from the effort of

The grey light filtering through the kitchen window matched my mood perfectly. I stood there, chewing

Mary stood trembling in the lounge, fists clenched. “Don’t you dare lecture me!”

The woman I called Mother Margaret stood by the kitchen window, chewing dry toast and butter, gazing

Blimey, got this wild story! Morning rush near Oxford Street had its own beat – heels clicking on the

Matthew pulled the car up to the cemetery gates and took a deep breath. God, how many times had he planned

**February 14th, 1935** “Don’t you dare touch my dolly!” shrieked Imogen, snatching the porcelain beauty

The morning rush around Oxford Street hummed with its own rhythm: heels clicking over pavement, horns

“Don’t you dare touch my doll!” shrieked Clara, snatching the porcelain beauty with

Elizabeth jolted against the airbags that deployed at the last second. Her vision blurred, but she couldn’t