Hair

A very short story. A woman is cutting her father's hair.

The hair, that was so thick it always remained perfectly styled with no chemical assistance, cascaded to the floor like autumn leaves layering the hardening ground. Up until now he had lost no hair and had contracted just a few lines of silver in his black mane. Now fifty-eight, the chemicals tearing through his body -- working to turn back those hyperactive nests of cells – suddenly turned him into an old, bald man. As she ran the clippers over his head, she looked upon her father’s scalp for the first time, and all the hope seemed to drain out of her through the tears welling up in her eyes. Through the liquid lenses she saw his now-dead hair encircling him like the dying flowers that would be around his casket. She stifled a gasp. “All done,” she said, trying to sound cheerful – trying to suppress her breaking thought – he’s all done, he’s all done.

Author's Note

Another of my first attempts at fiction.

Reviews

[Anonymous Shadow]

this is such an emotive piece. the imagery you've used has blown me away.
an excellent piece.
i think it could be made longer, maybe establish the relationship between the two characters a little stronger.
keep up the good work.

[[untitled]]

I think you should do just a little more work on the ending or change it slightly, I'm sure you can improve on your already great imagery. You are doing just fine. A good concept and well delivered. Best wishes, Pammy