Ten days ago, the Germans had shot down Malcolm's Lancaster and he was currently missing; hovering somewhere between life and death, like Schrodinger’s cat...
You paint such detailed, luscious scenes with your words. I could picture not just the train carriage, but the atmosphere perfectly. I particularly liked "just a few tendrils of moonlight filtering through the window and forming luminescent puddles on the floor" - this was glorious. And living near the outer Birmingham countryside myself, I can appreciate the muddy fields!
This was a gloriously chilling, poignant story that truly put me in the characters' shoes.
Share your horror stories in the Macabre Monday group chat on Mondays if you don't already. Don't you dare give up.
And thank you for subscribing. Appreciated. 😊
Thanks Hannah! It does feel like pushing water uphill sometimes.
Brill!!
Thanks C!
Bravo, Fran, I loved it! I love the imagery of the hairy hand in the darkness and the edge of your seat pacing!
Thanks Nancy, it’s actually based on a true story which makes it even creepier.
Oh wow, I love that!
Thank you so much. It doesn’t feel effortless. I wrangled with this story all week!
You paint such detailed, luscious scenes with your words. I could picture not just the train carriage, but the atmosphere perfectly. I particularly liked "just a few tendrils of moonlight filtering through the window and forming luminescent puddles on the floor" - this was glorious. And living near the outer Birmingham countryside myself, I can appreciate the muddy fields!
This was a gloriously chilling, poignant story that truly put me in the characters' shoes.
Your writing seems so effortless. It has a hypnotic flow that keeps me reading.