He invited me for a picnic on the banks of Lake Menace.
The name alone struck suspicion. Allegedly, it was the scene of a gruesome Civil War battle—word-of-mouth smalltown legend—you won’t read it in the official history books.
Years later, it is said the faceless ghosts of the Union and Confederate soldiers lurk near the still waters of their mass grave, hidden by a perpetual fog.
When he broke off half his sandwich to share with me, his cool, moist fingers lingered as I brought it to my mouth and took a bite.
Only, he hadn’t moved, and I didn’t dare look down to see who was still holding my hand.
© 2022 Nortina Simmons