She died at a young age, lived on by her killer.

Now, she can be seen sitting at her tomb, weeping at her demise, at how her tormentor gets to live on.

Many have heard her wails, how they ring across the woods hidden in the fog.

She cries alone have brought first responders out by passerby’s calls, worried about a woman being attacked.

But no one is there, no one to see, no one to talk.

She was there, waiting for him to appear at her grave, to remember what he did to her.

And he did, he returned to the grave of his victim, the life he snuffed out.

Her cries came, ear peircing screams as she appeared before him, dressed in green.

“You did this to me, and for that your fate shall be the same!” She invokes her righetous fury.