A class outing to a botanical garden goes horribly wrong; a vampire survives the zombiepocalypse in the Mother City; a woman confronts a child’s ghost in an empty house—these are but a few of Nerine Dorman’s stories that have drifted between the cracks and lodged themselves in dusty corners. Step closer and take a seat. There’s a warm fire, and the wind is rattling the windowpanes. Stay a while; let me whisper in your ear. Dream.
