Brelaina the Butcher
A CAT.tastrophe on Christmas Eve
Morning of Christmas Eve
Ashley, 23 years old, was styling her hair with a flat iron, getting ready for the big family Christmas party, when catastrophe struck.
Iris—Ashley’s cat—started batting at the power cord. Ashley quickly scooped her up and moved her out of danger, not realizing she had left the flat iron clamped in place for too long.
When she pulled it away, a large section of seared hair came with it.
Panic and desperation washed over her as she inspected the damage near the front of her right ear.
“O… ooh… no-no-no, now what am I going to do?” Ashley half whispered, the only response she could muster as she fingered the ravaged, fried strands.
She glanced down at her phone and hesitated, already knowing the chances of her salon being open—let alone having an appointment—were slim.
Still, she pressed the call button.
After six rings, the receptionist answered. Ashley explained her situation, but it was no use. Her usual salon—and stylist—had no availability.
—
The Only Option Left
Ashley tried several other salons with the same result: either they were closed or fully booked. By the time she checked the clock, it was already 2:30 in the afternoon, and her chances were quickly dwindling.
That’s when she spotted a shop she’d never heard of before.
Alternative Edge.
She was surprised to see it wasn’t far from her aunt’s house—and the Christmas party was at six. Heart racing, Ashley dialed the number.
To her shock, someone answered immediately. Even more surprising—they had an opening.
She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a very bad one, especially for a salon on Christmas Eve.
“Look what you got me into,” Ashley muttered, glancing at Iris as she wondered what fate had in store for her. She grabbed her- and headed for the door. Once in the car she put the address for the salon into the GPS.
—
Uncertainty awaits
Due to holiday traffic, Ashley pulled into the salon’s parking lot at 4:05 PM. She turned off the car and sat there for a moment before forcing herself to step out and head inside.
Once through the door, she was awestruck by the interior. Black and chrome dominated the space, accented with deep crimson red. The décor had a punk edge to it—but it was polished, high-fashion even, like rebellion refined into something deliberate.
A woman approached her from behind the counter. She had pitch-black hair cut into a lob, flipped to the right to expose a buzzed undercut beneath. Dressed mostly in black with hints of red woven through, she looked like a fusion of fashionista and punk rock icon.
“Hi. Can I help you?” the woman asked, her voice neutral, her expression stern.
“Oh—ye… yes,” Ashley replied, her nerves slipping into her words. “I called earlier about… needing my hair fixed.”
“Oooh- you’re the one who called. My names Anna.” The hairstylist said introducing herself with a bit of an mischievous smirk, that really unsettled Ashley.
—
The Contract
Anna ushered Ashley over to her station, where she evaluated the damage done to Ashley’s long, golden locks. After fifteen minutes of careful inspection, Anna presented the young woman with an eight-page contract and asked her to sign it.
Ashley stared at the legal form in confusion before looking up at Anna, bewildered by the sudden need for paperwork. Before she could even get a word out—
“It’s to protect my business from courtroom drama,” Anna replied, her voice neutral but firm.
Ashley scrolled through the massive document. Words like extreme alterations, no guarantees, and no turning back stared back at her from the pages.
Filled with uncertainty, Ashley’s hand shook nervously as she signed the waiver—while Anna’s excitement grew with anticipation, knowing full well that the young woman had not read the legal document in full.
—
Relinquishing Control
Butterflies swirled in the pit of Ashley’s stomach as a strip of tissue paper was wrapped snugly around her neck, followed by the weight of a thick black vinyl cape draped over her shoulders.
Anna did one last assessment of the blonde hair she was about to transform before reaching for her clippers, a half-inch guard already attached.
I should have read over that contract more, Ashley thought, her pulse quickening as the hairdresser approached with the menacing device in hand.
“So,” Anna said casually, examining the damaged section, “how did you lose almost eight inches of hair again?” Her tone suggested curiosity, not concern.
Ashley explained everything — how Iris had been batting at the power cord, how she’d rushed to move her out of the way, leaving the flat iron clamped too long.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” Ashley added awkwardly, attempting a nervous joke.
Anna smirked.
“More like curiosity killed your hair.” Anna replied, making both women laugh a bit louder than initially intended. Ashley grew uneasy when she heard the clippers being flicked on.
—
The Transformation
Ashley flinched and squealed, as Anna moved closer to her right ear, paused- just long enough to feel like a taunt.
“Hold still,” Anna commanded.
The buzzing drew closer. Before Ashley could react, the clippers plunged into her hair, sending shock down her spine.
Anna continued, stripping the sides of the younger woman’s hair down to nearly bare skin. Blonde strands slid off the vinyl cape and pooled at Ashley’s feet.
“I… th… thought—you were going to fix it?” Ashley stammered, her voice trembling as more hair fell away.
Anna didn’t stop.
“There was no fixing it,” she said calmly. “Not in the way you were expecting.”
She glanced at the damage once more, almost clinically.
“The loss was too significant.”
The words rang a hollow. Ashley was not prepared for what they meant.
The clippers buzzed again as Anna repeated on the opposite side, shaping Ashley’s hair into something unmistakable. A mohawk.
“W… why- are you taking so much hair off”. Ashley whimpered with more of her blonde locks hit the floor.
Anna finally set the clippers down, reaching instead for her scissors and comb.
“Because you gave me permission,” she replied evenly. “That contract you signed gives me full control over your appearance.”
—
The final result
Anna worked with deliberate precision now, her shears carving away what little length remained. Each cut felt final. Ashley watched helplessly as heavy locks slid from her shoulders, joining the growing pile at her feet.
“Wait—what exactly did I sign?” Ashley asked, panic creeping back into her voice. “I didn’t… I didn’t read all of it.”
Anna didn’t look up.
“Most people don’t,” she said evenly.
She explained without urgency, almost casually—that once the waiver was signed, control was no longer Ashley’s. Hair, makeup, presentation. The contract allowed for extreme alterations. Permanent ones, if deemed appropriate.
“And once you sign,” Anna added, finally meeting her gaze in the mirror, “you become a client for life.”
The scissors closed again with a sharp snip.
Ashley stared at her reflection, barely recognizing herself as more hair slid away.
What kind of place is this? she wondered, her shoulders dusted with what remained of who she used to be.
Anna set the shears aside and studied her face. After a moment, she wiped away Ashley’s makeup and began again—pale foundation first, then darkened eyes. Smoky purple shadow. A sharp cat-eye. Matching lipstick.
Ashley didn’t speak. She wasn’t sure she was allowed to anymore.
“Something’s off?” Anna implied to herself.
After several minutes, something clicked.
Anna reached for a smaller set of trimmers.
Ashley barely had time to register what was happening before the buzz returned — higher this time.
When Anna finished, the brows Ashley had sculpted into perfection for five years- were now gone.
Anna drew straighter- less curve, more angular brows on.
“La la!” Anna exclaimed with exuberance over her latest work.
Ashley examined herself closely in the mirror, now sporting a punky pixie-mohawk and goth like makeup. She was in utter shock over her appearance, a drastic change compared to the girly girl look she was accustomed to.
“Whadda think?” Anna queried highly anticipated Ashley’s response.
“I think I like it” Ashley responded in surprised fashion.
—
Aftermath
Ashley paid for the services, and headed to her car after thanking Anna.
The cold brisk December air hit Ashley’s exposed sides, once outside. She climbed into her car and proceeded to her aunt’s house,
Ashley pulled up front checking herself in the mirror, trying to figure out how to explain the sudden changes to her family. She gathered herself together and shut her car off.
Ashley grabbed her keys and headed for the front door. She knocked with authority, which was out of character for her. She heard someone unlatch the lock, and
braced for her family’s reaction.
The End.
