#8sunday Feb 21, 2015 The Itch of the Twitch

(apologies to Harvey Tyson)

The two of us were elbow deep in mud. Water was dripping down my neck, and rolling, in icy driblets, between my shoulders. We were lying on our stomachs peering out from our hastily contrived hide. Our binoculars were glued to our faces.

The steady torrent of rain caused the scene to constantly flicker and shift.  All colour was bleached into a drab grey-green. Something flickered in my peripheral vision.

I nudged my partner in the ribs, using the angle of my head to indicate the direction of my sighting.

To read more of this short story, click HERE

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