I don’t like shaving because it leaves scalded streaks up and down my legs, because it stings under my arms when I raise them (he says I ask too many questions). I don’t like to pluck either, like I’m a bird, like I’m pulling out feathers (he thinks people don’t need wings). He hates my body hair (he doesn’t like things that grow) though he doesn’t much fancy my head-hair either (he prefers things flat, unmoving). I say I’ll try a full body laser where they burn all the hair off, smooth the skin into slate, where I have to go and lie down (flat, unmoving) and they make me wear eye goggles (blinders) and the laser makes a shooting, scraping, swallowing, soaring (skinning, scalping, stabbing, suffering) kind of noise, going round and round over the same places, burning (burying) until it’s over and you sit up and take the goggles off and blink because all you see is perfect light all around without any darkness, any human imperfection, like you’re a barbie, like you’re a ballerina, like you’ve barely been born, and it should be fine to live like this, people still talk to you, see you, understand you, but it’s a little like he’s turned you into somebody else, a second person.
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FlashFlood 2023 is OPEN for submissions for one week only!
We are delighted to announce that we are open for submissions for FlashFlood 2023 from 12:01 a.m. BST on Sunday, 30 April to 23:59 BST on Sa...
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One day the planet tilted just ever so slightly to the left and everyone and everything I’d ever known in between fell off. It wasn’t easy t...
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A girl sits, waiting. She reaches above her head for a girl. A girl to pluck from the tree of girls. The tree is full and ripe, the perfect ...
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A shaft of sunlight fell across the worn herringbone floor, drawing his gaze upwards to the flawless blue sky beyond the row of windows, ...
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