Afternoon by the Canal in Brumelac Sqaure, Frostmere Print

Frostmere’s been twinned with Brumelac, northern France, since 1955, or so the corroded plaque by canal reckon. Some say twinning happened by letter, others by accident. A few whisper it was agreed underwater (typical Frostmere folk amirite?)

Brumelac’s somewhere in northern France. Damp sort of place, same air as Frostmere, waterstink fog, old brick sweating. Folk there hold eel markets and there is stories of a drowned chapel in the local reservoir that rings under the water when the moon’s wrong ringing in sync with Frostmere’s own.

Anyways… It was one of them slow, pink-light days far south of Harrowden when the water don’t move and summat strange drags itself up from the deep. She didn’t flinch. Folk round here never do, just paused a bit from eating her spicy mexican baguette. You see enough, you see enough, you stop blinking like…

Could’ve been any day. Could still be. Could still be. Could still be…