In the Welsh village of Tywydd, it was widely accepted that the weather had moods. If the sheep escaped, it would rain. If Dai the Butcher was late opening, it would snow. If Mrs Jenkins sang while hanging out washing, clouds would scatter like gossip after chapel. Nobody could explain it, but nobody needed to.Continue reading “New Voice Award: Mrs Mabli and the Weather Committee by Sharon Hier”
Oxford Flash Fiction Prize 