For years he complained about his wife’s cooking, especially her pies, claiming he would make better. He was right: the guests at his wake ate every last one.
We crawled for what must have been miles through mud, thorn-laden bush, beds of razor-sharp rock and freezing streams but still the bastards caught us. Then came the torture and the screaming.
We used to camp out by a deep bend in the river in our teens. The day we found an arm sticking out of the mud the world changed forever: its fingers were still moving.
They all thought hide-and-seek was a great game until the day they didn’t find little Davy. Lucy found him 4 months later and screamed for days.
The glowing embers of the fire led the pack straight to the feast. Once they tore through the fibrous outer wrapper the flesh, blood and marrow within were delicious.