Waynebill
Esther listened to her playlist of a combination of country and EDM as the plane soared to Clorä, a far European nation.
“Attention passengers, we will be landing in Rōv, Clorä in twenty minutes. Please stay seated until it is safe to move about the cabin”.
On Clorä soil:
Esther was entranced by Clorä-ian structures and exotic atmosphere, it wasn’t like Rio or Shaghia but more critically built.
Her cab driver took Esther to the countryside and Esther enjoyed the tiny huts of the small villages.
Reaching xän, the small village to the setting sun.Esther looked about her: something perplexed her.
Every other girl,woman,and elder woman seemed to have little to no hair at all.
Esther wondered why that was so but she kept walking. She went to a pub where the bartender seemed to sense her curiosity.
“Interested in our ritual, are yee?”.
“Yes, why does every lady here seem to be bald?”
“Wait til this afternoon and all shall be revealed”
That afternoon:
Esther went with the tender to the town where a crowd of mostly females gathered at what else but a beauty parlor.
Women had set up upside down buckets to accommodate for the shortage of chairs in the shop which were filled already.
Esther peered inside the window, a young lass that aged between the ages of 15 to 17 sat her surprisingly big tush in the cottony cushion that cradled her figure with luxury.
Esther watched the barber wrap the girl in a cape and snugly tightened the clothy prison.
The girl didn’t have to speak, a nod signaled the traditional hairdresser about fourty years to take up her tool and place behind the girl.
Esther was at shock as the clippers dug deep into the girl’s black, thick waves of foliage but seeing her smile and pluck at the severed strand ends made Esther smile.
Just then, Esther heard,”You, lady. Cut?”.
Esther looked to see the tender walk to her and he whispered in her ear: you have to experience it to understand.
Esther allowed herself to be walked to her assigned stylist. She was seated on a rickety bucket which left her butt uncomfortable but Esther sat in silence as one woman gathered her hair as the stylist caped her.
Her chestnut hair was draped about her circumference as the barber took out her shears. The hacking of hair was Swift and the fallen hair was swept up by a street sweeper.
“Excuse me, but what started this ritual”.
“It to honor the women affected by the civil war of our land that were forced to shave their own head to survive , this is just one of the many rituals our country condones”.
Esther felt lighter the longer they talked and soon, all her hair lay strung about her.
“Trabuska!”
Esther rubbed her severely short hair.
“Trabuska indeed”
Just then, the girl Esther had seen in the shop came out of the shop, rocking her new bald head.
