The Possibility of Evil Sequel

Miss Strangeworth held the green piece of paper in her hand shakily. How did this happen? A fire burned inside her. Those. Roses. Had. Been. In. Her. Family. For. Generations. This was low even for someone trying to get revenge. She paraded outside in her nightgown and slippers to find all of her roses chopped and strewn about her front walk. Everyone who was anyone on Pleasant Street saw this. Miss Strangeworth realized that people were staring. She quickly regained her composure. 

Mrs. Harper was walking down the street, but stopped when she saw the scene in front of Miss Strangeworth's house. "Oh my, what happened here, Miss Strangeworth?" she asked. 

Miss Strangeworth gave a weak smile. "I'm afraid it must've been those Gallagher boys from Unpleasant street. They just need the stability their mother couldn't provide from them. I don't blame them. It's not their fault their mother loves wine more than them." 

By mid-afternoon Miss Strangeworth had cleaned up all the remains of her beloved roses. All that was left were green flowerless bushes. Miss Strangeworth had sat inside all day. Children passed on the sidewalk looking cheerful. She hated it. Adults would walk by and stare at what used to be her roses. Miss Strangeworth closed her drapes to block out the happiness that seeped inside. For dinner she sat alone at her table and slowly slurped her soup. She did not have her afternoon tea that day. She didn't read her favorite poems before bed. She quietly slipped back into her unmade bed, still wearing the same nightgown from the evening before. Miss Strangeworth couldn't sleep. The shattered image of her roses lying on her front lawn, cut and torn, kept haunting her. It took a very real kind of evil to destroy someone's legacy. 

At 12:03am there was a quiet knock on her door. If she hadn't been awake she wouldn't have heard the nearly silent rapping. She threw on her bathrobe and quickly padded down the stairs. Who would be coming over at such an early hour? No one on Pleasant Street was ever up this late. When she opened the door, there stood Don Crane. He looked very unhappy. "Don, what are you doing out so late?" 

"Something has been bothering me. I just needed to get out," he said coldly. 

"Well, I don't know why you're here, Don." 

"Oh, I think you do, Miss Strangeworth." As he said those icy words she knew. She knew it was he who had discovered her note. She knew what godforsaken thing he had done to her roses. Rage boiled inside her and this frail, old woman wasn't so weak anymore. 

Miss Strangeworth grabbed her silver letter opener from the entryway table. She plunged the opener into Don's evil little heart. He clutched his chest in shock, pulling the letter opener out of his body. Blood poured out of him like a river that had just broken through a dam. His skin was a ghostly pale. Miss Strangeworth calmly went to the upstairs bathroom, removing the vinyl shower curtain from its hooks. She spread it across the living room floor and drug Don's limp body over it. Not a hint of remorse went through her as she rolled his body up into the curtain and dumped his body in the rose bushes. The blood had been cleaned from the floors, the letter opener was polished and no remnants of blood were anywhere.

Miss Strangeworth laid in her bed silently. She had protected her town. She was just doing what was right for her family's legacy. That evening, Miss Strangeworth slept soundly and when the whole town was looking for Don Crane she would act just as surprised as everyone else when they heard of his disappearance.