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Photo curtsy of Dale Rogerson

A dense grey mist covered the old seaside town. It’s red brick building appeared to be perspiring. Moisture dripped from every nook and cranny. A particularly fine crescent of Victorian hotels attempted to brighten the scene with their bow windows. Yet they failed. Even the swell of the ocean seemed subdued.
The sound of people going about their daily tasks was absent. A deep slumber appeared to cover the resort. The new king had required a new bank holiday. ‘Hibernation day’ was a total success. Even the usually noisy bandstand was silent.

Footnote: Hibernation is one method of handling the chill of winter, but I usually prefer the erotic warmth of coffee. May I send seasonal greeting to all who follow my wandering attempts at story telling.

This Post Has 15 Comments
  1. Your story sounded forlorn and ominous to me. Probably because I’ve seen many horror movies with that misty vacancy that hides monsters and terrible deeds. Good job creating dread. Happy Holidays!

  2. Dear Michael,

    I’m fond of coffee in the morning…particularly cold, winter mornings. Never heard of erotic coffee before. 😉 Lovely descriptions in your story.



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