A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

Killer in the Kitchen

It was a beautiful spring morning. The sun’s warming light gently entered the windows of the apartment in between the thick green leaves that sprung after fall.

“Come here you sneaky bastard!”

Inside the apartment stood a woman wearing a flowery pattern covered sundress. She had long curly black hair that fell gently across her deep olive complexion. Her almond shaped eyes glared down to the floor where she stood in disgust.

“Yeah, you filthy piece of crap! I’m gonna get you.”

An onlooker peering in through the windows wouldn’t be able to see where the victim laid due to the odd angle in which the window sill was placed, and even if an onlooker could see the body there was still no onlooker to be found.

“How do you like that?!”

The woman stomped and kicked the ground where the body laid and shot a disturbing grin when the body appeared to be fully mutilated.

“Ha ha ha—ahh, I told you that I was gonna get you.”

The woman grabbed some paper towels to pick up the mutilated body parts off of her kitchen floor, and she was proud of herself for being able to kill something on her own. She then opened the lid to her tall kitchen trash can and dumped the bloodied garbage in. She washed her hands, dried them on the appropriate non-decorated hand towels and then went on with her morning cooking, completely forgetting about the spider she just killed.

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