The couple sat on the bench, one at either end but tethered to each other. Sudden sleet feathered their coats, turning them ghostly. Snow-blinded, I blinked. Now, the bench was bereft, except for a spray of primroses.

“Bye, Mum and Dad,” I whispered.

The wind grabbed my words, taunting me.

Alyson lives in the UK with her family including her rescue animals. She works as a tutor/editor. Her dark stories have appeared often on the Horror Tree, and varied anthologies, most recently ‘Night Frights’, ‘Were Tales’ and ‘Don’t Break the Oath’. She’s often roaming the moors with her Labrador, Roxy.