Split Ends

Seeing as Halloween is fast approaching, I decided to put up a little story that I wrote not too long ago and won scarcest story at my college ‘Flash Fiction Fright Fest!’



Her fingers were hard and broken from washing and cutting and perming and dying and curling and shaving hair all day long. And it was a long day. She had learnt to shut out the constant babble of whoever sat in her chair. Everyone who placed themselves in front of her mirror felt the need to share their deepest darkest secrets as if she was some super human being who not only cared to know but wouldn’t say anything afterwards.

The final customer of the day finally arrived and she was just praying to get through it without knowing about some ones dirty laundry. A woman, middle aged, not too much older than she, walked in and sat down in the chair. She had chestnut brown hair which reached the middle of her back; she wanted it cut down to her shoulders.

“This new guy I’ve been seeing, he’s a fan of short hair. Around the length of yours actually” she said.

The hairdresser looked at her reflection in the mirror, her always perfectly tailored hair resting lightly on her shoulders.

“My husband likes my hair long so I’m sure he’ll get a shock later on tonight,” the woman giggled, flashing her too big wedding band.

Here we go again, the hairdresser thought as she sprayed water all over the woman’s locks. Adultery was often a common topic at her station.

“But my new fellow, James, he works in advertising; says he’s going to put me in one of his commercials.”

“That’s nice” said the hairdresser as she grabbed her comb and scissors, getting ready to start.

“I just wished he would leave his wife. He’s so bored by her but can’t seem to leave because of the children. Maybe you know her, she’s a hairdresser too.”

“What’s her name?” The hairdresser replied as she began cutting the ends of her hair.

“Lucy Watson.”

Lucy’s hands froze mid-cut. Her husband Jimmy had just gotten a new job in advertising.

“No, I don’t know her.” Lucy replied as she carefully put down the scissors.

“That’s a shame. I would have liked to have known what she’s like.”

Lucy nodded, picking up the straight razor. Pulling the woman’s head back, she placed the razor at the root of her head and dug in, sawing along into her scalp. The woman screamed struggling in her seat as blood began to drip down her face, pooling in her mouth.

Once the scalp was completely removed, Lucy calmly put down the blood cloaked razor and walked out the door, scalp still in hand.

She had been walking for an hour before the police caught up with her. She had blood splattered on her face, hands soaked in gore. Somewhere along the way, she had lost the scalp. Without struggle she was placed in the back of the car and driven away. Unfortunately they still can’t find the scalp.


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