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Stone Dead

by Andrew Atkinson
Originally published by on 29/10/2017

Like his forebears, Edgar was a dry-stone mason in Nidderdale. The environment could be lonely and bleak, particularly in winter. Today, though, the vista was green fields interspersed with grey Yorkshire stone dappled with weak autumnal sunlight.

Edgar’s wife had not been seen for some time. “Gone to the bright lights of the city,' said some. “Skedaddled with a tinker,' opined others. No one knew for sure…except Edgar.

He picked up his possessions – snap tin, flask, chisel and hammer – and patted the top of a dry-stone sheep pen. The pat…was it pride in his handiwork or a valediction?

Andrew Atkinson Merits

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