Gone with the hair

by M. Wang

I used to have short hair because my parents disliked me in long hair. Usually when my hair wiped across my face in a breeze, I would imagine having luring long hair dancing and flowing like a waterfall over my shoulder. I did not put the dream into action, not until I met my prince charming. He said my hair looked healthy, shining, silky, etc. and it would be perfect if I grew it long. When his sight fell on my hair, I could almost feel his breath blowing past my ears and patting my hair. The magic moment came when he gently touched my hair. It seemed that a stream of electricity flowed from his fingers to awaken every nerve inside each strand of my hair. The warmth of his palms made each hair of mine stand up on its end. This tingling sensation was a new experience to me.

After that day I could not help indulging in my hair for the sake of the unforgettable feeling. I found the bathroom a perfect shelter to hide the secret fondness of hair from my parents. While brushing my hair, I could almost see him in the bathroom mirror and the momentary sensation seemed slightly coming back with the comb softly massaging my scalp. I preferred soaking my hair in the bathtub, watching it floating with the water as if being patted, hugged and kissed by the bubbles of shampoo. Simply trying to imagine the feeling of him kissing my hair made me dizzy. I spent many a happy hour weaving all these dreams with imagination in the paradise of the bathroom.

I guess the indulgence in my hair was too strong to escape my parents' attention. My mother complained about the length of time I stayed in the bathroom. They constantly urged me to have my hair cut. I was enchanted by the fantasy of my hair so I was totally indifferent to their order. My weirdness and disobedience must have irritated my parents greatly. Still I was too deep in the dreamland to notice that all the warning and threats suddenly stopped.

Once while I was about to hide myself in the bathroom, I found my mother standing motionlessly in front of the door with a pair of scissors. Then she dragged me into the bathroom, pushed my head over the bathtub, and started to cut my hair. I was so taken by surprise that I could not put up any kind of resistance. I only watched my hair fall. I think I heard the sound of my hair smashing against the water in the bathtub. Then tears dashed upon the fallen hair everywhere.

That night I lay sleepless in bed with the newly-trimmed hair piercing my face like needles. It gave me the shivers to think of the boy seeing my awful appearance like this. My mind was disturbed with the awareness that my old dreams were torn into pieces. The temporary infatuation for the boy and the innocent affection for my mother were gone. Without long hair, my power of imagination vanished and the longing for any sort of attachment seemed to be withered as well. Perhaps all these were gone with the fallen hair and were now buried in the bathtub.

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