Nicola Ridd ★ Confirmed & Recent

The moor had been waiting.

Not on her door. Inside her.

“It’s the wind,” she told her brother, Danny, over the phone. “Or kids.” nicola ridd

It started with the gate. The old iron gate at the foot of Black Combe, the one that led to the abandoned shepherd’s hut. Every morning on her run, Nicola would find it swinging open. Every evening, she’d latch it shut. And every dawn, it would be open again, groaning on its hinges like a tired old dog. The moor had been waiting

Three days later, the knock came.