THE FIRST GHOST TOWN by STUART NEILD © 2011 cover by Dave Jeffery

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The farm hand awoke screaming, as the pitchfork rammed down trapping his leg. Luckily for his leg, but not so lucky for his heart which missed five beats, the pitchfork did not perforate the skin, or even his trousers. He looked up into the face of his employer Tom Wescot, a tall, muscular lion of a man, crowned with tousled brown hair and a thick, but well trimmed beard.

“If I catch you asleep on the job once more, I might just be tempted to run you through with this pitchfork,” Wescot growled.

The skinny frame of the farmhand struggled some more underneath the weight of the pitchfork, before Wescot heaved it up and away.

“You really are a skinny muscle less runt,” Wescot spat.

The farmhand struggled to get up, even without the weight of the pitchfork holding him down. He didn’t bother to dust himself down. Grabbing his hat and tools he rushed off outside. Tom Wescot turned to the two men who were stood behind him in rapturous uproar.

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