On Somerton Lane

Under the lamppost...on Somerton Lane.

On Somerton Lane

They found him on Somerton Lane.
Without a name, nor an identity.
The dim light from the lamppost shone upon his face, yet he was still a faceless man.
He had no family, no friends, nor a home.
Dozens of people walked by convinced that he was feigning sleep.
Some even managed to slip a few dollars into the pocket of his jacket.
He had been like that for several hours straight, before they found him on Somerton Lane.

The police discovered that they couldn’t conclude the cause of his death, that there were no known witnesses.
That he was just a middle-aged man who sat dead under a lamppost on Somerton Lane, with money in his pocket and nowhere to go.
Questions were asked, people interrogated. But no one could figure who the man found dead on Somerton Lane was.

But only I know who it was that killed me.

 

It was you.

Author's Note

Inspired by a real unsolved 'mystery' about "The Somerton Man" case, who was found dead on Somerton Beach in Adelaide, Australia on December 1st, 1948.

Reviews

[Naboo]

Love the title. Totally juxtaposes my expectations of content. As does the ending. And it wasn't me.

[Patrick Gerlits]

You're my favorite writer sir! lol