Bella stood contemplatively while the soft breeze tousled her hair and released the sugary smell of honeysuckle. She examined the plant’s tough vines. The roots, thicker than her forearms, had become so forceful, they could strangle a tree. She enjoyed the irony of it. Sweet, but deadly. Honeysuckle tea, she decided, would be her latest specialty. Crouching, she used her fingertips to squeeze out a drop of dew. Perfect.
In her kitchen, Bella sat as the sunlight washed over her. In her notebook, she began to write. First, a recipe, for sweet but deadly Honeysuckle tea. Then, a victims list.
© Shyla Fairfax-Owen