Marge Summers

Excerpt from “The Scourge Of Boston – A Tale Of 1773″

As the ten o’clock hour approached, Deborah strode the same street thinking how free this felt wearing a pair of trousers. Her hair was tucked up beneath a hat, and no one gave her a second glance. For all they knew she was a countryman evading the guard. She approached the wharf and her gaze scanned the area for one of those crannies David had told her about. She slipped into one and stood there silently.

But soon the gravity of her situation began to dawn on her. Stories she had heard about regulars taking too much of the drink and forcing themselves on young women began to crowd into her memory. Every voice she heard carried on the breeze sent a shiver down her spine. And then she made the mistake of looking up. Hanging a few feet away from her were the skeletal remains of slave who had tried to kill his master twenty years before. The poor bastard had been hung, and the body left there as a warning to other slaves who might consider the same actions.

As the bones swayed in the breeze, the skull turned towards her, and for a moment, she felt she could see a light emanating from the eye sockets. She shivered and forced herself to look away.

Written by Marge Summers using her pseudonym, Meg Wearing. Find her on the web at