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The Highwayman
There was no moon to be seen in the cloudy, but stormy sea above as the lakes of clouds covered the black blanket which was flung over the early morning sun. A misty figure came riding. A rapier gleaming as if lots of glittering jewels were in his belt. He came galloping on his horse, on the river of darkness. To him it looked as if the walls were closing in all around him and with a flick of the horses mane, he had reached for the sword. No one could predict where he was going. Untill he arrived. He had come to a broken down old inn that looked as if the giant of york had once used as his seat and when he had finished just dumped it there. He had arrived. Just then he cracked his whip on the shutters. His black and beautiful horse wining beneth him. There was no answer. He whistled a sweet whistle that calmed the horse and recived an answer from somewhere above his head. A girl called Bess had appeared at an open window. She was dark haired and dark eyed. Bess looked in the diamond sparkly mirror and saw the dark face of the highyway man staring at her silky brown locks of hair.