Nicola Ridd Access

It wasn’t just loose. The latch wasn’t missing. It had been unscrewed . Deliberately. And tucked behind the hinge plate, folded into a tight square, was a piece of oilcloth.

Nicola spun around. No one.

Nicola drove to the moor that same hour, flashlight trembling in her hand. She walked to the shepherd’s hut. The gate was open, as always. But this time, she looked at the bottom hinge. nicola ridd

Here’s a short story draft for the name Nicola Ridd . The Lock on the Moor It wasn’t just loose

“Nicola – the moor keeps what you give it. Come find me before they build the road.” folded into a tight square

The moor had been waiting.