September 14, 2015 | Occasus | Issue 5 | Fiction
Formaldehyde Doll
My cousin stood up,
cleared his throat stood right by grandma ready to pray over her pale translucent body: blood drained out formaldehyde drained in. Eyebrows scribbled on with a thick black marker, lips smeared with off-pink lipstick wrinkles smoothed as if the funeral home unraveled her skin, ironed it, and super-glued it back on the mothball-like stench blended with rotten meat that shot up my nostrils every time I peeked my head into her coffin. My cousin trying to pray, us laughing at his strand of snot hanging down towards the ground and we snicker as he cries, sniffles prays, dear grandma. |
CARA LEUNG is a Fourth Year UWO Student completing an Honours Specialization in English Language and Literature.