The gnawing started as soon as night fell; incisors clicking, toes scurrying over both the dead and live bodies. The rats feasted. There wasn’t much you could do about it. The living had nowhere to escape to anyway. Their living quarters were awash with mud, corpses and spent bullet cases. There was no colour anywhere. The landscape was brown mud,… Read it
Alyson lives in West Yorkshire and goes to a writing group regularly. She writes stories for young adults, ghost stories and Flash Fiction. She loves old movies, the film noirs of 1940's, (Lauren Bacall was an early role model), singing, craft making, her cats, her family. Oh and chocolate.