He’s a professional photographer and because of this, the girls trust him, sit for him, tilting their chins, tucking a stray strand of hair behind an ear. Afterward, dinner: crab cakes and lobster, linguine and clams. Wine served in long stemmed goblets. What he doesn’t tell them: the photographs are so much better than the girls themselves. The flesh of a girl splits open in splatters, exposing muscle and sinew and bone. Murder is time consuming, a chore, but the photographs are timeless, mounted, monochromatic. And when he grows tired of looking at them, oh how quickly they burn.
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Candace Hartsuyker has an M.F.A in Creative Writing from McNeese State University and reads for PANK. She has been published in Heavy Feather Review, Maudlin House and elsewhere.
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image: Michael McGill
Rejection Letters 