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Numbers 32:23
I grew up on a Shippensburg farm,
close to town, close to Interstate 81, too.
I’ve got stories galore, from my time living there,
and I might even share them with you.
This particular one, as I best can recall, happened after we all went to bed.
It was late in the night when my dad heard a crash.
Many more followed that one, he said.
So he jumped out of bed and he quickly got dressed,
and he drove to the bridge up the road.
81 was all stopped and he noticed a truck
that had crashed and had lost all its load.
Concrete barriers were scattered all over the place.
And the bang that dad heard was a truck,
and the cars crashing into the barriers that fell.
In the middle of this they were stuck.
My dad walked to a car that was close to the edge;
a young girl was just standing close by.
And he saw the flat tires and he thought he could help,
so he walked up to her and said “hi”.
But she started to scream, so my dad felt real bad,
and he said “friend, please don’t be afraid.
I am just here to help. Can I fix your flat tires?
or in any way be of some aid?”
But the girl was in shock, for she didn’t say a word.
A police man arrived on the scene.
And his flashlight revealed the girl’s pale stricken face,
and the fact that her clothes were not clean.
She was covered in blood, and the car seat was too.
A big butcher knife, covered in gore
was the object dad saw, when the man flashed his light
on the car seat and over the floor.
More policemen arrived and they questioned the girl,
though she answered them never a word.
So they made an arrest and they took her to jail.
Through the paper, my dad later heard,
she had taken the knife from the kitchen at home
and had stabbed both her parents to death.
Then she stole her dad’s car and took off in the night
with the murder still fresh on her breath.
The girl thought she’d be fine, for she thought no one knew,
but God reach down and flickered a truck.
She hit concrete head on, and with two broken tires,
the young killer was flat out of luck.
© Loretta Shively
#murder #killer #accident
close to town, close to Interstate 81, too.
I’ve got stories galore, from my time living there,
and I might even share them with you.
This particular one, as I best can recall, happened after we all went to bed.
It was late in the night when my dad heard a crash.
Many more followed that one, he said.
So he jumped out of bed and he quickly got dressed,
and he drove to the bridge up the road.
81 was all stopped and he noticed a truck
that had crashed and had lost all its load.
Concrete barriers were scattered all over the place.
And the bang that dad heard was a truck,
and the cars crashing into the barriers that fell.
In the middle of this they were stuck.
My dad walked to a car that was close to the edge;
a young girl was just standing close by.
And he saw the flat tires and he thought he could help,
so he walked up to her and said “hi”.
But she started to scream, so my dad felt real bad,
and he said “friend, please don’t be afraid.
I am just here to help. Can I fix your flat tires?
or in any way be of some aid?”
But the girl was in shock, for she didn’t say a word.
A police man arrived on the scene.
And his flashlight revealed the girl’s pale stricken face,
and the fact that her clothes were not clean.
She was covered in blood, and the car seat was too.
A big butcher knife, covered in gore
was the object dad saw, when the man flashed his light
on the car seat and over the floor.
More policemen arrived and they questioned the girl,
though she answered them never a word.
So they made an arrest and they took her to jail.
Through the paper, my dad later heard,
she had taken the knife from the kitchen at home
and had stabbed both her parents to death.
Then she stole her dad’s car and took off in the night
with the murder still fresh on her breath.
The girl thought she’d be fine, for she thought no one knew,
but God reach down and flickered a truck.
She hit concrete head on, and with two broken tires,
the young killer was flat out of luck.
© Loretta Shively
#murder #killer #accident
