The Unmarked Grave – A Flash Fiction Challenge

capturaThe Unmarked Grave

30 sep 2016

Three hundred years and then some,

John Smith was laid to rest,

In an unmarked grave, they laid him down

Not named, not loved, not blessed.


The time has come to raise him

His sleep must henceforth end

John Smith, he has a job to do

Some bridges he must mend


He drank, he cursed, he gambled.

He thieved and dallied with whores

He fell in with the wrong crowd

And racked up debts galore.


Rejected by his kith and kin

He took the crooked path

To Hell he went, and stayed awhile

Not once did he look back


Until the Devil wooed him

And showered him with praise,

With luck, he did not take the bait

But vowed to mend his ways.


And now, John Smith, rejoins us

His spirit lingers long

Above the headstones of those he loved

The family he did wrong


His mission now to make amends

To warn the other sinners

Not drink nor greed nor lust they need

To live life as a winner


If family they have right now

Then they are rich indeed

No man should die alone, he chides

Because of his misdeeds


So, don’t take the crooked path, my friend

When the death bell rings your name

Misery and darkness reign

An eternity of shame


Now his spirit takes his place once more

The graveyard all aglow

The words ‘John Smith’ burst forth in script

Forevermore, his name will show.


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