My Final Rest

100-words Flash Fiction Friday!

Become a Friday Fictioneer! It’s simple and easy!

Every Friday, Madison Woods posts a photo prompt and a story to accompany the prompt. You write a 100-word story for the prompt and take it over to Madison and leave her a comment on her story along with a link back to yours. Read everyone else’s responses, Tweet and have fun!

Here’s Madison’s prompt for this week. Click it. 

Did you click it? Was I right? Simple and easy!

Here we go…

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Van Winkle Tunnel photo: Madison Woods

My Final Rest

Yellow tape is gone,
blood washed away,
benches both brand-new,
then, concrete gray.

The path was dark that evening,
July twenty-third,
8:00 p.m., the moon was new,
’twas the time I preferred.

Walking alone, lost in thought
I heard the nightjar’s trill,
I didn’t hear the stranger ‘til
he reached the foot of the hill.

He threw me up against the wall,
pain first sharp, then none.
I whispered “Mercy” as I looked up,
but he had just begun.

Eighty years now come July
the strangers roam possessed.
I just weep for the others
and wait for my final rest.