old stage road

sometimes, you can see a woman out there, when the night has fallen and thrown shadow over the slumbering world, which the generous moon gently illuminates.

she'll be roaming the fields, maybe; a white dot slowly wading through thigh-length grass, one pale arm out to guide eyes blinded by darkness. or maybe she's shuffling along the road, tattered snow gown dragging across the asphalt. but she'll be there.

allegedly, long ago, a woman's body, headless and deflowered, was left among the tall grass of old stage road, and her spectre still wanders the premises of that road.

maybe you'll see her walking along it, one day, as you're driving home from work. but because it's so dark. maybe you'll pity her, and ask if she needs a ride home. but you probably won't notice it at first, until you get close enough, or until the headlights of your vehicle shine upon her. hopefully, when you do see it, you'll speed along that long stretch of road, and hopefully you won't look back.

after all, it isn't normal to be cradling your own head in your arms, is it?