Cara by Sara Crowley

On examination, I found her to be a mere draggle. Shine and sheen evaporated. Bosoms large, succulent. Heartbeat fast. Curio – armpit hair. Fingernails clear. Vagina – moist with aroma of moss. Green eyes of glitter ice. Breath – the bristle of horses. Stomach larger than advisable, distinct rounding. Right knee lower than left. Her voice sticky/gluey, like she’d sucked hard on many crystal drops, however, no sign of furring on teeth. Smooth cup and saucer skin of palest cream. I told her she was safe now, altogether safe. She stretched her lips into a smileshape but I was not for fooling. As per regulation seventeensix, I shattered her, crunched the glass of her underfoot to be sure. She poses no threat.

“not looking well” (image via Flickr user Esther Simpson)

Sara Crowley was the winner of The Waterstones Bookseller Bursary and her novel in progress – Salted – was runner up in the Faber/National Book Tokens “Not Yet Published” Prize. Her short stories have been published at a variety of lovely places. She blogs at A Salted and appreciates you taking the time to read this.