Punctured

Another little freebie for Halloween. I dedicate this story to my friend, Marie Bowen. Marie, I hope you enjoy x

Punctured

Dana crested the highest of the Tops, the name the locals used for the series of low hills that separated the small rural town she lived in from the village the other side. The gravel crunched softly beneath the wheels of her bicycle. The ground was still wet, raindrops falling silent as tears from the heavily leafed trees flanking the road, such as it was. The sudden downpour she had been caught in had come to an equally abrupt stop.

Overhead, a pale moon showed now and then through the smoke-grey clouds as they drifted. To the west the sky was a darker grey, threatening more rain to come...

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