It was during one of the best summers in living memory that the destruction of our village began. The tremors came first, echoed by rumblings of public fear. Soon visitors arrived, seeking to bear witness to our doom. Arrests were made as families barricaded themselves into their homesteads. But the momentum became unstoppable. Elders prophesied the monster was an incarnation of the god of chaos, Cuadzilla, who lured innocents to their deaths with visions of waterfalls of gold, before the terrible leviathan of the deep earth broke through the heavy rock and fine soils of our lands to wreak its havoc.
Published by MW Bewick
Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com View more posts