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
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