She had such a pretty face, my sister did. She had a coat of a radiant yellow, high cheekbones and cute dimples when she smiled. She had beautifully, icy blue eyes, and deep oak hair that fell in loose curls halfway down her back, and had the greatest pegasus wings I had ever seen. She was tall, and thin. Everyone loved her. All the boys in her school would chase her. All the teachers praised her for her hardwork and good grades. All of her friends adored her because she was so loyal, kind and trustworthy. She was the type of person you'd only meet once in a lifetime. She loved me the way I loved her.  She always looked down on me, and smiled.  She always told me: "You're the best little sister ever, Scootaloo."

I loved the way she screamed. She barely fought back. Ha, I think she was afraid of hurting me. The fear in her eyes when she saw the knife only made her look even more beautiful. She had such a pretty little throat, and it looked even better when it had been cut from side to side. The crimson liquid that streamed from her wound was such a wonderful shade. She had the loveliest corpse.