Red roses

"You sure do have some really beautiful and uncannily fresh flowers." - the young man told Mr. Peters who owned a flower shop. He was quite famous in the town, especially renowned for his blood red roses which had the highest demand. The only complaint that the residents of the town had about him was the flower shop being closed on Friday.

Mr. Peters smiled at the young man, he had quite the sweet smile.

"So, why the sudden visit to the shop, Edward?"

Edward scratched his neck awkwardly, the tip of his ears turning pink. He said, "You see Mr. Peters, I an asking out this girl who I like, today. So can you recommend me some flowers for her?"

Mr. Peters chuckled softly and said, "Oh! Young love."

Edward blushed at that.

"Well young man, these red roses are my speciality and trust me, these shall certainly impress your girl."

"Mr. Peters, how is that the color is so blood red, like so much visibly similar to the color of blood?", Edward asked curiously.

"That's because, blood goes into growing these flowers.", Mr. Peters replied with a solemn expression on his face, his pupils reflecting the same grave and hard expression.

Edward felt his throat going dry at the answer. He had an alarmed and almost terrified expression on his face.

Seeing that, Mr. Peters' entire demeanour changed in a moment, he burst out laughing hysterically, as though, the grave edpression which his face had borne, a few moments prior, almost never existed.

His laughter did relax Edward. Even he started chuckling sheepishly.

"You got me for a second there, Mr. Peters."

"The expression on your face was priceless, young fellow. Of course, I was joking. Well, my blood and sweat, my hard efforts however, definitely go into growing these.", Mr. Peters said, still clutching his stomach from all the laughter.

Edward bought a dozen of those red roses, thanked Mr. Peters and bade him goodbye.

Later that night, Mr. Peters was making a to do list for his vacation on Friday, which was the next day, when he remembered an impending task. He went to his store room which sort of resembled a cold storage and dragged the dark jute bag out of it. He went to the garden and buried the murdered body in the pit he had dug earlier, all this while a sinister smile along with the familiar exhaustion of labour ghosting his face.

He went in, cleaned himself, and decided to attend to his to-do list.

'Burying the body' Checked.

'Sowing red roses saplings on the pit' To be done tomorrow.

Satisfied with himself, he called it a day. This had been his routine every Thursday, since he escaped the prison, some 10 years back. He had been held and sentenced for a double murder case, back then.