Friday evening. The flat above the chip shop.
Aldric was on the mattress. Warm light from the window.
Empty bottles everywhere. He didn't move.
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Seven story ideas. Aldric's handwriting, clean at first,
then shaky by the end. He read through them one by one.
Saturday. 5am. He'd driven through the night.
The road to Skoble didn't appear on the satnav.
He stopped for a paper map at an all-night petrol station.
Moors stretching dark on both sides.
No houses with lights. No other cars.
Then the radio cut to static mid-song.
Twenty kilometres from Skoble. The phone showed No Service.
It stayed that way.
The town appeared through mist below. Stone buildings.
Empty streets in the pre-dawn dark. Church spires.
From up here, it looked almost normal.
Empty streets. Six cars, all pointing away from the centre.
A welcome sign claimed fifteen thousand residents.
Kael counted zero people on the streets.
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