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.
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.