Story

It was Friday night and it was crowded at Park Lane Cafe. As usual. Nobody was sitting alone. Nobody was drinking orange juice or softdrink. It was all beer and spirits. It sounded like an orchestra. There was nowhere quiet to go. Everyone in the cafe that night died. And it was horrific. It made the headlines of all the newspapers in the world. 'Biggest tragedy in the century!' But no one but the original town folk knew about it. Then the town slowly died out. No one had children. No one could survive the pain of this tragedy. The streets were threadbare. Nothing but old buildings and shabby loos out the back where left. This was called Nightmare Valley after the big tragedy.
Nothing but the dust stirred when the old Bluebird pulled up in the dust-ridden place. A poor lonel...