This reminds me of the lads strolling the moors in An American Werewold in London, which at 11…

Getting away from all the hullabaloo for a moment, I stood outside near the stage entrance. The night air was bitterly cold, and the thick frost that had lingered all day still clung to the trees and grass on the distant playing fields. A curious mist lingered, bathing the school in a diffused, ethereal glow.
Rachael Part 5 of 5
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Simon Dillon
Arpad Nagy
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Nov 13, 2024
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This reminds me of the lads strolling the moors in An American Werewold in London, which at 11, scared the heckspit out of me! Never trusted a fog since then!
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Written by Arpad Nagy3.5K Followers
·547 Following
Shortlisted for 2024 Northwind Writing Award in NF/Fiction. New owner of First Line Fiction. Editor @ The Memoirist, AoE, Book Cafe, Short Place, Kitchen Tales.
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