Cornelia set the kettle on the stove. Men she didn’t recognize had invaded her home. They wanted her dead. They wanted her money. She knew it.
With a shaking hand, she poured a yellow sugar-like powder into the kettle and turned the flame high. She’d make them Bill’s tea: the one that put him to sleep.
A young man shuffled into the kitchen, staring at his shoes. “With Dad gone, you shouldn’t be alone,” he said raising his arms.
Cornelia clasped her neck. He meant to strike. The kettle screeched; she jumped.
The tea smelled garlicky, perfectly brewed—laced with arsenic.
We didn’t need to be told there was arsenic in the last brew; we knew about poor Bill’s cuppa.
If it were MY story – I’d leave the last line out. You constructed a perfect bubble then used the last line as a dagger to burst that bubble. The last line takes away my right as a reader to configure a conclusion to your mystery. Other than that minor detail it was a great story.
Gotta agree with some of the above comments. You told us too much, leaving not much to figure out. However, it is well told, and left me with a shivery feeling, and a sense of, “Hey, girl–way to go!” Always good to see the BAD guys get their comeuppance.
I admit, Bobby, there was something satisfying about reading your story first, and then this. Although unrelated stories, the bad guys were up, and in this they go down. Always satisfying.
Great story overall, Christian. The foibles have been pointed out, but overall it’s vert tight an suspenseful.