A dark and filthy night. Black as black. A howling wind. A small mound in the distance. A lonely tree bent double on top. Nothing is abroad.
No one walks on a night like this.
But wait.
A small figure stands next to the tree. Gently lifting a large flat stone. Carefully tying a rope. Lowering the other end into a small black hole. Leering like a baleful eye in the frightening night.
Inteachán tests the knot.
Inteachán is twelve years old. She climbs down holes. Retrieving relics. Important things.
BARNABY TAYLOR 
I’m definitely going shorter next time I publish serially. Looking forward to reading through.
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Hi, thanks for taking a look.
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OK. I’m in.
A verse a day for a couple of months.
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Hi Julian, Welcome aboard. Many thanks for following. Kind regards, Barnaby
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Ok. I’m in.
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Welcome aboard. Thank you for taking the time to take a look. I hope you enjoy what you read.
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I like your voice.
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Many thanks for your kind words and also for the follow. I really appreciate it. Good luck with your own blogging.
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