I am constantly amazed at the number of stupid people in the world. Yes, stupid. Not ignorant, mind you. Stupid.
This morning, shortly after seven, a trio of men approached the house of Gwen Sherman. Gwen is a widower and a woman who has seen a great deal in seventy-eight years of life. In addition to this, Gwen is a practitioner of arts best left undiscussed even here in the confines of my journal.
Gwen is not from my Cross. She emerged from Gods’ Hollow in 1933, took up residence in town and eventually married. Her husband, Francis Sherman, was a fine man. He worked, and he took care of his wife. When he passed the world lost a decent man, a statement I cannot make about many.
For the past five years, his three nephews have been attempting to oust their aunt from her home. Since she is my neighbor, living only a few miles away, they came to me for assistance. They wished to place her in a home. I informed them she was in her home, and if they bothered me again they would not live to regret it.
This morning, they attempted to move their aunt.
I’m not sure what she did, or how she did it, but she was quite successful in stopping her nephews.
When she stopped by and told me what had happened, I made my way to her home to see the damage. Their brains, what little they had, had poured out through their ears and something had torn their intestines out of their backsides.
It did not look like an easy death.
I regret to write that Gwen has left Cross, having traveled back into Gods’ Hollow.
It’s a shame. She was a good neighbor.
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