Broken corpses, squashed corpses, dismembered, torn or chopped corpses. All around, for miles, scattered corpses, and within their midst a little girl...She wore a white dress and a girdle of blue and red flowers in her long braided white hair. She sang a nursery rhyme as she hopped from foot to foot between the corpses.A lonely little bird, sang a song that no one heard.If you ever hear that bird, cover your ears or you’ll get hurt.Cause the lonely little bird, is the worst singer ever. " She rises to collect her gloves and bucket. "I'll clock out and that will give you time to get dressed. No pressure, no questions... just a lift - promise. Sound like a plan?"In the car, we sit there in silence, nothing but the hum of the engine and the passing landscapes as we drive into the early evening sunset that I nearly didn't see.I stifle a sob at the thought of what Dad would have done if he'd come home to an empty house and found he'd lost his son as well as his wife, both under. More

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