The Trespasser Short Story - pity, that
Or break it. There's the murder squad you set your sights on, back at the beginning of your career: the one where you spend your day playing knife-edge mind-games with psychopathic geniuses, knowing that one wrong blink could mean the difference between victory and another dead body. And there's the one you actually work on, when you're the squad pariah. The night shifts. The vicious jabs and the pranks that go too far. Processing scumbags and matching witness statements, sifting the dregs for the case that might get you closer to where you want to be. Tonight's case isn't it. Uniforms call it in as a slam-dunk domestic. Except when Conway takes a good look at the victim's face, she realises she's seen her somewhere before. And suddenly the conviction that there's a different answer takes her breath away. The Trespasser Short Story
The Trespasser Short Story Video
As the dawn broke above the moorlands of Yorkshire, in the English countryside, all was still. I was up and about, although a little earlier than my usual time, as the day began to stir.
LIKE US ON
Not far away the hoot of an owl let me know that there was a trespasser in her territory. I looked up and sure enough, as my eyes adjusted to the morning half-light, high in the sky a sparrow hawk patrolled the heavens above me. Like the owl, yet in her own different and special way, she was magnificent. Memories The Trespasser Short Story long ago flooded my thoughts as I watched her in flight. When I was a small boy, living and growing up in the countryside, I had few human friends although that was no botheration to me as I was surrounded by the creatures that made up the fur and feather of the landscape. These were my friends and one in particular, a sparrow hawk, called by daily to see me. Well, she didn't call especially to see me I just pretended that she did.
However, it was so that, to the gamekeepers who watched over the shooting moor, the sparrow hawk and her like were their enemies. They took the game bird chicks which the keepers were painstakingly rearing for the shooting season at years end. And so it was that one morning, as I watched my sparrow hawk, as she turned into the breeze and the sunlight caught her undescribably beautiful brown coat, a sharp crack split the morning air and she was gone. I shook my head in order to return to now and the day that lay The Trespasser Short Story me. The stable doors were all open and the stalls were all vacant within.
Navigation menu
The horses were safely out in the fields because they slept outside at this time of the year. They were all contentedly munching Thw sweet, green, dew soaked grass that grows in abundance on the low moor. All was well. The yard was silent again and I gazed admiringly at the grey painted Land Rover by the water trough. It was one of the larger, longer models which could seat a dozen people if needed, and was such a help around the place.
FOLLOW US ON
The Land Rover had been washed and polished and it sparkled and shone. She needed to look her best as she had a long journey ahead of her today. And she had better get going if she was to make the six or seven hour journey to the county of Devon in time for lunch. A small band of ageing but well meaning country folk were to gossip and sing their way southward to the famous Widecombe Fair.]
Certainly.
Excuse for that I interfere … To me this situation is familiar. I invite to discussion.
Not to tell it is more.
Should you tell it — a false way.