I’m still here you know. You all thought I perished when my cottage collapsed the other night. None of you shed a tear for me, did you? But you didn’t know about the tunnel where I sought refuge.
I’d served time for a crime I didn’t commit. You all despised me and thought me guilty. But it wasn’t me. When I returned home the real perpetrator worried the truth would out. So he tried disposing of me by destroying my home with me inside.
You think I’m dead. A dead man can’t commit murder. I’m coming for you.
Soon, very soon.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Jean L Hays for the picture.