Barricade the doors and prepare your materials.
For the head, a clutch of cables stripped down to their raw copper cores carrying shudders of memory. For eyes and ears, a twist of coaxials and a flicker of fiber optics. Zip tie at random to provide an illusion of control. No mouth because you never spoke out even when you thought you might.
Craft fingers from the cheap cigarettes you bought though split peas were cheaper and the soup would have nourished you at least a little.
For lungs, a handful of the split peas you ought to have bought, closed up in a tin. They should rattle.
For the belly, a wad of diary pages. Use gloves, they will be mucky.
For legs, stack the contents of your worst-day bedroom floor, from books up to bottles. Determine that whatever direction they tilt is forward.
For feet, use the boots, the ones that could coax a tango from a tilt.
For the heart, an envelope to enclose the shadows you loved. Their subjects were only distractions.
Head-cable your monster into a shape.
Use a fine tip paint brush to apply the porcelain slip, taking care to coat each ridge and angle. Do not be tempted to use a larger brush to smooth over surfaces or round out corners.
Slide your monster into the kiln and fire at extreme heat. You will know she is ready by the screaming.
Allow the porcelain to cool.
Apply the glaze and make your monster a cup of tea while she dries off. This will add an extra layer of polish. Persuade your monster back into the kiln for the glaze to settle.
Unbarricade the doors and bid your half-glazed monster farewell. Watch her lumbering off and remind yourself that she is made for experience and not for longevity.
Use a broom to sweep out the kiln. Hesitate before you shake the porcelain ash off the bristles, standing on the back doorstep. Realize as the breeze passes through and steals them that the porcelain monster is only the shape and not the thing itself.
Make yourself a fresh cup of tea, light one of those cheap cigarettes. Ask yourself where are you now?
Kerry Anderson is a writer living and working in South Africa and Singapore. She is usually unsettled and often confused which she treats with (videos of) elephants, cats, and Yazoo. She has had her work published in The Masters Review, Surely Magazine, Ink Sweat & Tears, and Writers.com, among others. Find more on her website.