Roses

My roses were blooming again. I'd always tried to take special care of them. They were my prized possessions and the only thing that seemed to bring me any peace or joy while I was stuck in the degenerate hole. And they had the audacity to call it a neighborhood. Don't get me wrong. It actually used to be quite a peaceful neighborhood to live in. That was until those monsters moved in across the street.

Within a week, peace and quiet gave way to window-rattling bass and all kinds of shouting and confrontations in the streets. All manner of criminals started frequenting the house at all times of day or night. And it wouldn't just be to their houses. Their “associates” would bother me, the sweet elderly couple to my right—no one was safe from them!

Now, I know what you're thinking: Why not just inform the authorities? Trust me when I say we tried! They had their hiding down to a science, sadly. Either they acquired themselves a scanner or a lookout, who knew, but the “party” always seemed to be over just before the police showed up. No one was caught, nothing was done, and as soon as the police were far enough away, it was business as usual. It was infuriating! At that point, I considered arming myself with more than just a steel bat that I kept by my bed, but the thought of actually needing it broke my heart.

The final straw? One of my new neighbors decided to break into my fence, a bag of something in his hand. I reached for my bat and turned back to the window, just in time to see him digging up my rose bushes. My pride and joy that I worked tirelessly to keep alive. Branches were snapped, petals fell this way and that. I saw red and, before I knew it, the whole world went black...

My world slowly returned to me and I found myself outside. My hands were wet and in the glow of the porch light, I could vaguely make out the dark red hue. At my feet, lay my bat next to a body whose face was unrecognizable. I shook like a leaf trying to hold to a branch for dear life. Did I do this?

What a silly question! a voice scolded me. It was self-defense, my dear. Nothing more. Serves him right for trespassing, destroying our happiness and our roses!

A loud voice from outside of the fence jolted me back to reality. It was his friend. I felt myself start to panic. I had no idea what I was going to do.

You know exactly what to do. The voice chimed in once more. You want your peace back? Take it!

I quickly picked up the bat and tiptoed to the shadows by the garage. Barely a second later, I saw the man come slinking inside the fence. He walked past me, barely two feet away. As he bent down to survey his fallen, I struck. The first swing collided with the back of his skull with a loud crack. It should have sickened me, but I found the sound... satisfying. I swung once more as he tried to rise from the ground. Again. And again. And again. I swung my bat until I was sure he stopped moving. His caved-in skull matched that of his cohort, so I knew I had nothing to worry about. The bat slipped from my grasp, the CLANG of it hitting the stones in the garden echoed through the night air. I cringed, holding my breath for what felt like an eternity. When I was satisfied with the silence that met me, I finally released my breath and quietly ran to the gate, shutting it tightly.

I turned back to my... well, my victims.

“Right where I left you,” I whispered. A tiny chuckle even escaped my lips. I didn't recognize myself anymore, but I didn't care. Anyway, an identity crisis was the least of my worries at the present moment. “Now, what am I to do with you two?” I quietly pondered.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my now decimated rosebushes. Those would have to be reburied straight away.

“Hold on a tic.” A light bulb suddenly illuminated itself inside my mind.

Roses always need good fertilizer anyway.

“Indeed they do,” I agreed aloud.

Taking care not to keep up too much of a racket, I pulled my spade from the garage and commenced to digging. It didn't matter how deep I needed to go; I was smart enough to phone the city to check for gas pipes before I planted my roses. It felt like forever, but I finally dug a sufficient hole large enough to hold the two banes of my existence. I drug the bodies to their new home, placing a layer of dirt over them. An idea occurred to me and I immediately hopped back to my garage, to my gardening chest and pulled out the lime. I traipsed back to the hole and sprinkled a generous amount inside, covering as many nooks and crannies as I could. When I was satisfied, I gently placed the rose bushes back in their respective spots and continued to fill the hole until they were returned to their former upright glory.

I returned the shovel to the garage, as well as what was left of my lime. As an extra precaution, I took out the hose and “watered” the bushes, taking special care to rinse the spot where they had fallen. I surveyed my work, almost giddy at the prospect of finally returning to a life of peace in my once quiet little neighborhood.

The next morning, their “associates” came calling, as per usual. They remained unanswered. A couple of weeks passed and the police finally made their way around to the house with the landlord. Many of us sat on our porches and surveyed from afar. The police came out with armfuls of various things: clothes, various plastic bags, and a few other household items. I was thankful to still be a frequent reader of the newspaper, finding a story printed inside about a house of “ill-repute” in my neighborhood that mysteriously found itself empty. The tenants were involved with drug distribution and many other illicit activities. Police claimed to have searched thoroughly for the men, but nothing turned up. One officer was quoted to remark that it was as if the two had “vanished into thin air, without a single trace.”

I quietly folded my paper and rested it in my lap as I grabbed my glass of sweet tea from the ground next to my feet.

“Morning, kid!” came the familiar voice of the sweet elderly woman next door. She stood on her little step ladder as she tended to her ivy plants.

“Morning.” I smiled brightly.

“I've always loved those roses of yours.” She leaned against the fence, glancing from them to me and back. “They should grow nice and big now.” She gave me a wink.

I did my damnedest to keep my smile from wavering. There was no mistaking the fact that she knew what I had done.

“Maybe now we'll finally get some peace around here again, too.” She gave me another wink before stepping down out of my view.

I could hear my heart threatening to beat straight out of my chest, but the fear only lasted for a moment. Much to my own surprise, I calmed once again, taking a long sip of my tea. I turned my gaze to my rose bushes, my eyes surveying the blooms that still survived and traveling down to the earth beneath them. Before I knew it, a smirk danced on my lips.

“Cheers,” I said quietly, lifting my glass.

The seasons came and went. Soon, the neighborhood forgot about those two and their ilk and life returned to the way it should have been. Not too long into winter, the city decided to tear the house down and I heard something through the grapevine that the landlord was reprimanded about his choice of tenants.

The cold months gave way to warm ones once more and I was ecstatic to see the fruits of my labor paying off.

My roses were blooming again.