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Short Stories

A rainy night on bleak Sheffield Moor

With apologies to the unknown couple who walked down The Moor late at night. Same place. Different times.

*****

It was dark and raining, and Benjamin and Mary tramped across bleak Sheffield Moor.  “I said it was a bad idea,” cried Mary. “My brother Thomas offered to take us if we slipped him a few coins. He would have brought his gun along.”

“Stop worrying,” Benjamin told her. He held her arm to stop her falling. “Stick to the track, that way we know we’re heading in the right direction.”

“It’s muddy, and I can’t see anything in front of me.” 

“We must travel by night so that nobody sees us. Rest assured, Mary, there won’t be many robbers out tonight.”

A cold wind blew across the scrub and rattled the branches of the trees. She was wet through, and she pulled the shawl around her to keep warm. “I feel like a thousand eyes are watching us.”

“Keep walking and don’t think about what might be in the shadows.” Benjamin patted the knife that he’d stolen from the slaughterhouse. Mary didn’t know that he had it, but he was prepared if there was anybody who might be a threat.

“I’m frightened. How far is it,” Mary asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said, “but we have to cross the Porter first.”

“Oh Benjamin. That makes it sound even more dangerous.” She wished she was at home in the bed that she knew she would never see again.

“There is a plank across it, and then we head towards Little Sheffield.” He put his arm around her  hoping that it might reassure her. “We’ll catch a horse and cart in the morning.”

“Do you think that we’re doing the right thing?”

“We’ve no choice, Mary. If the constable catches me, I’ll be put in the stocks like last time.”

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