By April Yates

She’d reached her limit.

She had thought this about her last two moultings but by some miracle had went on.

The period of vulnerability she went through every few hundred thousand years or so was a gift of strength to her tribe.

Beneath the vastness of her shod shells, safe from the perils of the ocean, their numbers had grown unchecked.

Safe from fear, they’d been free to evolve, to develop a culture.

With civilisation came the craving for conquest. Joy filled her dying moments, knowing that her children will soon rise and take back the land she once ruled.

April Yates lives in Derbyshire with her wife and some fluffy demons masquerading as dogs.

A life long horror fan, she is subjecting herself to the horror of working simultaneously on both a novel and novella.

Check out her website for details about work forthcoming or find her lurking on Twitter @April_Yates_