Friday, January 28, 2011

Sarah is a Snowwoman

Sarah walks to the frozen lake and lays her jacket across the snow. She steps out of her jeans and folds them over the jacket, removing clothes until the sharp chill of the wind hardens her already hard nipples. She tests the ice with her toes and lets the rest of her body follow like it followed Daddy thirteen years before.
And when Daddy comes to the lake, Sarah is a snowwoman. Her long, branchy arms lie across her snow chest. A snowwoman now, Sarah is a snowwoman.
And when Daddy is naked, he is not a snowman. He is Daddy and he walks like Daddy. He walks to Sarah and breathes onto her like Daddy. He walks around her like Daddy. His penis slides against her like Daddy. Her snow like Daddy. The snow like Daddy.
He slides his fingers across her cold, wet snow body, sliding them against her tongue, into her mouth.
“Sarah,” he says, before taking a step back. “My beautiful Sarah. You’re missing a nose.”
Sarah only notices now. Her plump bottom is firm. Her arms are long. Her eyes are even, but between them and beneath them, no nose. She rubs her tongue where she thought it was. No nose. 
            “Good thing Daddy’s here,” he says and rubs her snowy shoulder. “What would you do without Daddy?” He closes his eyes and puts his hands around his penis. Sarah watches as he twists it off. “This should fit,” he says and lifts it to her face. “This will be a perfect fit.”
He digs it into her face and kisses her. “My beautiful Sarah,” he says. “Now you really are my beautiful Sarah.”
            Small drops of blood slip down her cheek and fall across the ice like rain, like fire, like Sarah the snowwoman, who doesn’t say a word.  


--Shawn Rubenfeld is a Creative Writing graduate of SUNY New Paltz. He is looking for a job.

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