There was nothing to look at once they were away from the town, only a long road stretching ahead, bare fields on either side, beneath a lowering gray sky. It was very flat and empty out here on the edge of the fens, and dull winter light leeched all colour from the uninspiring landscape. Occasionally there was a ruined windmill in the distance, a knackered old horse gazing sadly over a fence, a few recumbent cows, a dead man in a ditch. Copyright 2011 by Lisa Tuttle. Originally published in A BOOK OF HORRORS, edited by Stephen Jones. Reprinted by permission of the author. Narrated by Gabrielle de Cuir.