Friday Flash Fiction
The barrow loomed black against the bluish grey of the evening sky. Herrin, Tryls and Mirra paused to look up at it.
“They say it’s haunted, you know,” Herrin said conversationally. Mirra and Tryls looked at him. “Well, obviously it isn’t,” he continued quickly. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. It’s obviously just a rumour to keep treasure hunters away.”
Tryls sighed. “Some might say that such a rumour should not be necessary to give the dead their peace.”
Herrin wrinkled his nose in derision. “Some might say that if the dead wanted their peace they shouldn’t be taking priceless treasures into their graves. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Mirra gave Herrin a gentle shove. “Just move it,” she said. “We’re going to draw unwanted attention if we stand here gawking at it all night.”
They crept quietly up the hill, and at Herrin’s signal…
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