Tina Bell Vance

Back to Non-Series

The Bawdy House on Petticoat Lane

A house shaped like a woman's torso stands in a desolate field. Windows gaze out like vacant eyes, each framing a different figure—women in tattered dresses, ghosts of an era lost. A single tree stands beside, twisted and bare. Shadows stretch across the ground, reaching like hands toward the house's stone skin. It is a place of stories long past, where the walls have absorbed the whispered dreams and despair of all who lived within.

Non-Series — The Bawdy House on Petticoat Lane

A house shaped like a woman's torso stands in a desolate field. Windows gaze out like vacant eyes, each framing a different figure—women in tattered dresses, ghosts of an era lost. A single tree stands beside, twisted and bare. Shadows stretch across the ground, reaching like hands toward the house's stone skin. It is a place of stories long past, where the walls have absorbed the whispered dreams and despair of all who lived within.