Encouraging links between students and school staff around the globe
Grandma wasn’t Grandma anymore. George noticed the change as soon as he walked into the parlour on that arctic winter afternoon. The lights were off, but he could just make her out, a huddled form sitting in her armchair, breath steaming like the exhalations of a sleeping dragon. His grandmother always felt the cold; chilblains were her curse, she’d say, and so even in summer all three bars of the electric fire would be lit. Now the room was almost as chilly as the winter world outside. Snow dripped from the cuffs of George’s coat and spotted the carpet. He glanced down.
That was when he noticed the torn collar at his feet.
Eyes like coals plucked from a fire flashed in the darkness. “Yesssss?”
“Winston was a bad, bad dog,” the thing crooned
“There’s a little left in the fridge, if you’re hungry...”
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