(Author’s note: Nothing major. Still toiling on 10,000 words. Work’s getting in the way. Here’s today’s fictioneers.)
by Miles H. Rost
The winter came early for the people of Charleston-upon-Avonlea. Bitter cold came in mid-September, unannounced.
By early October, the river Avonlea had frozen over. 4 of every 10 people got supplies.
November came quickly, and the cold persisted. The river seemed to be nearly frozen solid. Attempts to do some ice fishing came up with very little except more ice.
The people were so used to doing their own thing, they didn’t ask for any sort of help from other places. They didn’t know how.
By the time the soft rains of April showed up, there was no one left alive. Even as the bustling village of Newport, 7 kilometers away, went about it’s own business.