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Power of Persuasion 1 April 25th, 1983
Thats it, Edmund pointed beyond the fence, looking strangely pale and anxious, Thats Sarah Elliots house.
Maximilian Vasile nodded, staring at the house contemplatively, admiring how picture perfect the cottage seemed with its beautiful thatched roof and a garden full of flowers. During the day the place must have seemed like something out of a book, a hidden house tucked away behind a garden, and only discovered by those who knew where it was. But the well beaten path up to the cottage suggested otherwise and a row of fairy lights had been hung up to light the way for all travellers during the twilight hours.
Tell me about her, he turned to the Bolingbroke twin and wondered to himself why the man seemed so terribly pale.
Ill tell you something, Edgar butted in rudely, Ill tell you right here, right now that we are not going anywhere near that place.
Rain On His Parade April 22nd, 1970
He blew on the glass and in the moments that it remained steamed up by the warmth of his breath, little drips of condensation trickling down like tear drops, he wrote his name in the nicest letters he could manage. He had barely finished dotting the final i in his name before the d started to disappear and it wasnt long before his name vanished altogether, almost like it had never existed.
Dmitri sighed and pressed his forehead against the window, feeling so wretched and miserable that he could no longer cry about it. His heart ached and his eyes stung as he stood there, wishing and pleading and hoping and begging that some nice fairy or an angel would come down from Heaven and turn him back into a normal little boy. But there were no guardian angels to guide his steps, no kind hearted pixie to lighten his spirits, there was only himself.
He wanted to go outside and play. He had been housebound for five months now but for such a little boy that had alrea
The Mystery of Dmitri's Boots August 27th, 1984
Somewhere and somehow in the past sixty three years, nearly sixty four, Jan Vasile had learnt how to sew. But whether he had learnt the skill while staying with Rastislav, or while he had fought with the Red Army, or even just from sitting watching Elizabet mend clothes, he seemed a practised hand.
He leaned over his sons chest, a bottle of an antiseptic liquid in one hand and a needle and surgical thread in the other, sewing diligently, stitching his eldest back together slowly, his eyebrows twitching occasionally as he concentrated on his work. His other son was pacing the hotel room anxiously, wringing his hands as he watched his father work. He was still shirtless, barefoot and he looked even more frightful for he was covered from almost head to toe in blood. But it wasnt his blood, although many strands of DNA may have suggested otherwise.
Dmitri sat down to calm himself, failed in the attempt and stood back up again, pacing the ro
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