Hidden in the fog, with the morning light

Maniacal mysteries, and terrible frights

No people to see, at least no one living

Milmonyville, was a place, unforgiving

Tragic tales, of murder, filled the town

Claiming the men, who didn’t back down

Nefarious carrying on, in the streets

You best run now, go on, use your feet

Hightail it out, of the land filled with dread

But be careful where you step…

*

*

Or you could wind up dead.

September Writing Prompt – The mystery of Milmonyville – Day 13/30

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