This story is written for the Flash Fiction for aspiring writers challenge.
I wish to thank Iain Kelly (see link below) for introducing me to this new challenge.
Photo credit: Unknown.
The alleys were deserted in that quaint old Spanish town.
The cobbled streets were shaded by the crumbling walls, although above the blue summer skies could be glimpsed between the roof tops.
Shutters had been closed across windows. Washing had been taken in. This was more than just a siesta. This was practically hibernation.
The small town waited, quietly and hidden away. This was a staunch republican town, in the heart of what was once republican territory. All the towns young men had retreated to the hills to continue fighting, leaving behind a town full of elderly men and women and children.
They all huddled together in their little houses. They had all heard the news.
In the distance they could hear gunshots and the sound of drums.
Franco’s army was coming.