It was a frightful and gloomy month for the people in the city of London. It was late March and the sky was as dark as could be in the afternoon with the wind howling. The promising scent of rain lingered in the air with April just around the corner. Nervously the people rushed about their day eager to get home in secret hope to escape their fear of everyone who used to be so familiar to them. Flaberghasted they wondered when it would end and who would do such a horrible thing.

This obsession of mine had been torturing me for months so I finally took the initiative and did it. Every night at midnight I would go there with my tools, and an hour later return back to my apartment. Once I was home the sores on my fingertips turned into blisters and my body ached from head to toe due to the swift and powerful movements I had used. This pain was somewhat comforting to me.

When the morning came it was the talk of the town, the missing stones from the London Bridge! They caught on quickly to the pattern used; seven stones were removed each night. It was ingenius! The people of the city anxiously and nervously awaited the falling of the bridge. Each day it would be less steady and closer and closer to falling.

The next day as I walked through the town it was chaotic and hectic. People discussed amongst their families possible suspects of who would do such a treacherous thing and what the twisted reason behind it could be.

Everyone in town immediately smiled when they saw me. I was the sunshine of their day, for I was the fairest lady of them all. It gave me goosebumps to know how powerful I was. The whole town was distraught about the missing stones from the bridge and lost trust in the people who used to be their friends. They suspected everyone but me. I was to angelic and beautiful to even think of something so devilish; or so they thought.

At last it was the final night. After many precis