 Grandfather Harry coughed softly. I could tell he was trying to hide the strength of it from the way he tensed up, from the depth of his sigh when he finally stopped. He settled down again, most likely enjoying the warmth of the large fireplace the hotel had. I noticed he sat alone, despite the numerous family members that arrived for my wedding day.
I looked at my two kids and told them to go keep him company.  Simon and Mark walked into the school gym after the town had flooded it. Simon had to admit that the experience was an exciting one. The winds whipped at the windows, cracks had formed and outside the thunder rolled with incredible power. It was a storm unlike any he had experienced, so he wasn’t surprised to see most of the small town taking shelter in the gym.
“Never experienced this in a city before,” Simon murmured.  Barely a week passed since our parents disappeared. Our neighbours acted fearfully, my brother still behaved strangely, and I wondered how long it would be before I escaped the madness. The paranoia, the talk of sinister happenings, the old man staring out the window at night with his shotgun resting across his lap.
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WRITER
Matthew Dewey
Archives
November 2021
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