Dreadlock’s Demise

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It was the cusp of spring and with flowers blooming and the ground putting forth its lusty essence of life, we find our old friend Dreadlocks, resting by the edge of a babbling brook. It was then that fate took a cruel turn, and the razor that had only meant to graze her scalp, cut far too deeply. She fell, the water claiming her as it had so many other creatures of the night. Fear not good readers, for she takes flight like a phoenix from the ashes of death. Arise, Shorngirl. All that once was hers, is now yours. Write on in her own spirit.

Claire

8 responses to “Dreadlock’s Demise

  1. Even though after so many years, and many different story sites, it will be so strange to not see one of the greatest names in hair stories. Welcome Shorngirl. I look forward to many more years of your great work.

  2. Hello all,
    Thanks for understanding. There is a reason for this actually, but it is more personal than anything else, so we’ll leave it at that. As the great one wrote:” …What’s in a name, would not a rose, by any other name, smell as sweet?” Will Shakespeare.
    See you in the next one,
    Claire (a.k.a. Shorngirl)

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