Abstract
Urban horror short story
Just enough to make Randal gag quietly into his cupped palm. Faint and sick.
Desperate for a wee, too. Too much coffee. Meanwhile his inflamed eyes went all around, checking, assessing ...
It had only slowly dawned that he was in fact subsisting in a flat beneath General Fucking Broncawei, a war criminal. But once it had, every creak and shudder of the ceiling became especially ominous.
The author was always fascinated by what could be contained in a brief moment. This short urban fiction story is part of a suite of short science fiction, fantasy and horror pieces by BP Gregory, each its own little maelstrom of human suffering and longing.
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No print copies yet - I'm saving up short stories for another collection