The Cove – part three

Not one of them called the police. The entire night no one called the police.Despite their terror, despite their muffled cries as they realised they were trapped in their homes by the thing at their front door – the things that used to be their men – not one of them thought to call the…

The Cove – part two

The sea had claimed them both, father and brother. Accident, misadventure, it didn’t matter what you called it. The sea had them. They’d been taken so completely that their bodies hadn’t even washed up. How cruel that was, particularly for her Man, that they didn’t have anything to bury. Nothing physical to mourn. Some of…

The Cove – part one

Beryl marched up and down the shingle of the beach the entire day. She was bare-foot and grimy, but the soles of her feet were too calloused for the pebbles to gnaw at. Not that she’d have felt it even if they’d torn open her toes. In the grey drizzle of that afternoon, she was…

Visitor to the Graveyard – part four

The next time he went it was so dark, the slither of moon totally lost behind foreboding grey cloud. Up the winding driveway to the graveyard, the man pushed a wheelbarrow. It clattered and rattled, filled as it was with a shovel, rope, a crowbar, a saw, pliers, piano wire, a machete, a sledge-hammer and…

Panicked

“There’s nothing more pleasurable than killing a panicked man,” his calloused fingers gripped tight around the back of my neck. “There’s no greater joy than killing a man who’s given in entirely to fear. Some kill with a rifle, at a remove. I’ve never cared for that myself. I like to look a man in…