Gallows Hill

 

Slightly built Roger bent down to pick up a smooth flat pebble. A flick of his wrist and it skipped across the perfectly still Jed Water. Once, twice, thrice it skipped before sinking to the bottom. His mother, whose body bore the stretch marks of having given birth to seven children, was not impressed. She looked up at the castle jail keeping watch over the citizens of Jedburgh below. Her head throbbed with the memory of her son Roger as a wee bairn on her hip as Thomas Rogers’ lifeless body swung from the gallows in front of the jail.

“That’s where ya be gawn if ya dinnae stoap muckin aboot laddie!” Ma bellowed.

“I didnae do it ma, I didnae” Roger protested.

“Och aye” Ma sighed, not convinced her son was telling the truth.

Roger headed back up the riverbank to help his father muck out the stables. The Bolton family was dirt poor and they lived in a single room attached to the stables. It was a daily struggle to feed the family and most days they went hungry. Margaret had recently started work as a domestic for the baker and occasionally she was able to bring a loaf of bread home for Ma. Margaret was a live-in servant for the baker and five young men who all lived above the shop on High Street. As Margaret was just 12 years old Ma sent Roger to the shop to check on his young sister's welfare and that’s when the kerfuffle broke out. Roger and Ma both knew the Sherriff would be around shortly to arrest him for assault.

** this is my second attempt at writing a creative non-fiction piece of 250 words. I have a long, long way to go in terms of being proficient in this genre but I include it in the hope that I can see how I progress, as a writer. 

Image: Jedburgh Castle Jail www.thecastlesofscotland.co.uk/the-best-castles/feature-articles/jedburgh-castle/