(I like to write things, occasionally I will post them here. Hope you enjoy!)
Margery Magdeline was spreading margarine, getting it all over the handle of the knife and onto her hands, when she thought: How funny, what a fine little murder I’ve committed. The red spread glistened in the early morning sun. She chewed the toast – it was some stale old white bread and she hated it, she wanted to go back to the time before she got up, decided to have toast and was filled only with the golden thoughts of it.