Bradley Species' idea
Cordelia awoke early that fine morning, the warm glow from her sunlight-drenched curtains dancing across her face. She slid from the security of her bed, her bare feet comforted by the lavish carpet as she padded blissfully from her room.
The house was silent at this premature time of day, albeit a clattering in the kitchen, accompanied by the shuffling of slippers. The recently painted door was already ajar, a shadow flickering to and fro across the pleasant mellow shine.
Her brother was there, tripping about to locate his cereal. He was forever putting it someplace else each morning, always forgetting where.
Dropping slices of soft white bread into the toaster, Cordelia reached for the cutlery drawer, her brother's muffled footsteps slowing as he retrieved a bowl. She turned on the pretense of getting a plate and buried a knife to the hilt in his back.
Such a glorious morning to kill.