Memories of Murder

The mist was thick, the hour was late, I halted at the rusty gate; I’d heard the stories of that place, And thought about a crime so base: A girl was murdered, years ago. Her ghost remains in situ, though; She can not leave the place she died, They say - or had those people lied? I stepped onto the hallowed ground, And heard a noise and spun around. A mouse…a rat…a cat…I hoped. I couldn’t see a thing, and groped The headstones, as I staggered through - Completely lost, what could I do? My nervous heart was beating hard; Alone, I crept in that graveyard. Surrounded by the fog and gloom, I tripped and fell across a tomb, And hands were at my throat, I swear - Although I felt no body there. The girl was strangled, beaten, slashed; I knew the way her throat was gashed. Her killer jailed, she can’t forget About her murder. Such regret! A pretty teen who’d known such Hell, And through her thoughts, I’d die as well. My larynx crushed, I prayed for peace, And for that sorry soul’s release. As blows began to rain on me, I knew I had to set her free - Before I also died the way That she had done upon that day. I struggled, but alas too late, And wished I’d stayed outside that gate. I felt the jagged glass attack, And sensed there was no turning back. The moon appeared, the fog had cleared; I trembled as the spectre neared. The murder victim shook her head. “It’s time I left,” she smiled and said. The birds were singing as she rose. She’s found repose. for Knight's story contest