Day One of NaPoWriMo.

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo.net:

Today, we’d like to challenge you to write – without consulting the book – a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you remember having liked but that you haven’t read in a long time.

Unfortunately, I can’t remember the book’s title*, but here’s my go at it:

WhoDunnit

When first we met on that bright, crisp page, 
you seemed to have your life together.
The edges just a tad bit frayed, 
but that’s -- of course -- how humans weather.

A dark and stormy night [cliche]. 
He warned you not to drive that road.
But in your rush, you went that way. 
What followed is what was forebode.

What did you see through rain-streaked glass?
You’d ponder that for many days.
Should you have stopped? [We second guess.]
Debate, deny, deflect, delay.

A murder! Could you have intervened? 
The fear, the guilt, the blame, the shame.
What is is never what it seems.
The killer saw you! (And knows your name.) 

Stalked and taunted, played a fool.
You wonder, have you gone insane?
Your spouse, best friend, they ridicule.
You call the cops; it’s all in vain. 

I start to think you’re sad and weak. 
Fearful, whining to no avail.
Is it just attention that you seek?
My trust in you begins to fail. 

I’ll save the rest, won’t spoil the plot;
the twists, the turns, the dead end trails. 
The ending does not disappoint. 
And – as it should – the good prevails. 

* Edited to add: I found the book! The Break Down by B. A. Paris.