by Pale Blue Panda
I was murdered at 24.
April 11th 1975, to be exact.
Walking home from a party,
Escorted by a friend, a friend who suggested
"A walk would be nice"
The still warmth of the night agreed with him.
The walk took us away from where I was supposed to be going.
Away from street light, away from voices discussing weekend plans.
It took us into the brambled pathway of what seemed harmless shrubbery.
I remember the slim track leading down toward the beach. It was too dark to see properly through the shrub, pale moonlight our only guide toward the sound of slapping waves.
News headlines leapt from pages for weeks after.
"Young Teacher Missing"
"Melissa Yates last seen on Friday April 11th and the usual spiel about what I was wearing.
If only they had known...my friend walked back home alone...
I screamed at them and slapped on the thick glass between us but no-one had heard me until now.
Nearly 36 years later as one of the men in blue uniform stopped digging and called to the others, some of the men in blue overalls busily collecting samples stopped as others with shovels and spade stopped turning over the sand.