Short Story Sunday: Ice in Winter [Part Four: The Conclusion]

Simon opened his good eye. He was in some kind of shed. He could see sunlight creeping in under the door, so he knew it was still day time. When he tried to move, he realised he was constrained. 

Short Story Sunday: Latchberry Farm [Part Five]

Vic liked to whistle as he worked. In his mind it was a pastime that delivered cheer to an otherwise depressing setting. Around him bodies lay under sheets, their toe tags flapping in the draft. First on his schedule was a Miss Marie Delvigne and, while her occupation was left blank, any man within three villages knew of the trade she plied. She’d been found face down in her own vomit and it made the other ladies like her jumpy. He was aware of a wet spot forming on his pelvis as her body oozed and leaked on the table.