Rapunzel No More

Emily Weiland had been an eccentric young woman from birth, whether it was through her desire to pursue a career in the arts or her wild imagination, which manifested itself in both her daydreams and the ones she had at night. Her most recent dream felt more like a recollection of moments from her university’s end-of-year soiree put on by her art department. It was always her favorite quarterly event of the school year, and she always spared no expense for it. Last year, she had straightened her silken mass of hair into a fluffy, flowing blanket of voluminous golden silk that swirled around her body with a mind of its own as she danced with an infectious energy amongst her peers.

Its incredible length may have brushed up against other dancers when it flew in every direction her head turned, but that only drew more attention to her joie de vivre, matched only by the beauty of her unblemished, smiling face. Emily found a sort of comfort in reflecting on the past and imagining the possibilities for the future, but one little peculiar element about this dream was toward the end, when slowly but surely, a small amount of her luscious blonde locks shed out from her head, drifting to the floor. . .

. . .but the dream ended before that detail could catch her mind’s eye, as Emily blinked her blue eyes open to a sunbeam coming into her bedroom from the window behind her headboard. She glanced down to look at her lean figure and saw all her long hair tangled and wrapped around her body, having neglected to put it up before going to bed the night before.

Anyone else would find her predicament annoying, but Emily just took the time to delicately rake the tangles out of her mane, then slipped it underneath her head and turned around to lay on her right side, not ready to get out of bed just yet. The light from the sun coming into Emily’s bedroom not only brightened its walls, but also brought out the shine in her lengthy hair, bringing a smile to her face before she drifted back to sleeping in for the morning after another late night of studying.

When she was thirteen years old, Emily was forced by her mother to cut her then-hip-length tresses into a chin-length bob, and while her friends thought it looked cute on her, she couldn’t do a lot of styling with it and got bored as a result. From there, a hair growth spurt began at the beginning of her next school year, and by the time it ended twelve months later, she had wavy blonde hair that fell all the way down to the small of her back. As much as she loved it at that length, she loved taking care of it even more so, and set out to grow it as long as she could. She scheduled regular shampoo and deep conditioner treatments, she took biotin, and even trimmed it herself to do everything she could to keep it in prime condition.

Seven years later, here she was, at age 22, three months away from graduating college with her Bachelor’s of Arts, with many friends she had made in classes and her part-time job, and a summer internship that she had just lined up with the Museum of Modern Art. But this morning, she was admiring her most prized possession: a thick, beautiful head of long, wavy blonde hair that fell past her bust, past her waist, past her small buttocks and thighs, ending just below her knees. It framed her oval-shaped head perfectly and covered her entire back like a golden curtain.

Despite all the time it took to manage such a length, it was worth every second for Emily. She loved when her friends would play with it, putting it into buns, braids, ponytails, and discovering new accessories and up-dos to put it up in when she couldn’t decide on a style. Emily even appreciated the compliments from strangers when they stopped her on the sidewalk when she wore it down. She also loved the feeling of its shine in the glow of the sun on every occasion. And she loved the subtle swishing sound her hair would make against her back every time she turned her head, almost like a gentle, assuring caress meant only for her. Its beauty even complemented her lovely personality, and made her beam with pride that she was a real life Rapunzel.

An hour or so later, she opened her eyes to see the four feet of gold glistening in the sunlight on her mattress. Before she could take in the sight, her pleasure was disrupted by the loud ring of her cellphone on the end table next to the far side of her bed. After a brief jolt in shock of the sudden burst of sound, Emily drug herself toward her phone and studied the caller ID, which read as ‘Original Designers’. I thought I confirmed my appointment already?, she thought to herself, answering the phone after laying back down on the bed and pushing her magnificent mane out from behind her, letting its entire length hang over the edge of her bed, where the excess length of her locks landed on the floor with an audible thud.

“Hello?” Emily asked, running her fingers through her scalp, and leaving them threaded in her warm, soft hair.

“Hi, is this Emily Weiland?” asked a female voice on the other line.

“Yes, I’m Emily. . .”

“This is Kendra at Original Designers. I know you already confirmed your appointment with Taylor, but she’s sadly fallen ill and isn’t in today. Can you reschedule?”

Shit. . . she thought to herself. I have work for the rest of the week and all of next, and I’m going home this weekend! I can’t put this off!

She hadn’t been to the hairdresser’s in years, but thought she deserved a reward after all the studying and hard work she had done on her thesis and for the entire semester, and giving her most prized possession a blowout felt like the gift that made the most sense to her, especially with the mid-semester soiree happening later tonight.

“Um….I can’t reschedule, can I just see someone else?,” Emily inquired.. 

“Let me see,” said the receptionist, before pausing. “I have an appointment with Brooke open at 6pm!”

“That would be perfect!” Emily replied, with a smile.

“Alright! She’ll see you tonight at 6! Have a good one!” Chirped the receptionist before hanging up the phone.

“Great. . .” sighed Emily, before looking up at the ceiling above her for a beat as she ran her left hand through a seemingly endless section of her hair. 

“Guess I’m up!” She said to herself before sitting up, her beautiful locks following her up to shelter her entire back like a cloak. Emily slipped off the bed to begin her morning routine in the bathroom, where she picked up a detangling oil. Like an expert, she flipped her mane over her head so the tips touched the floor, hair so thick it blocked all the light from her bathroom. With expertise, she squirted a generous amount of oil into her hands and gently worked the oil into all four feet of her hair, freeing it from any tangles she missed earlier and bringing out a more glimmering shine. Once she was satisfied, Emily ventured into the kitchen for breakfast. 

Later, she sat down at her vanity and draped her entire hair over her left shoulder before grabbing a brush, and running it through her pride and joy with effortless care and precision. After fifty strokes, Emily used an arm to flip her fluffy mane from her left shoulder over to the right, admiring the way her luscious, shimmering locks flew around her body, before they landed over her right shoulder. Emily then closed her eyes as she continued the daily ritual of brushing her magnificent hair, getting lost in the feeling and sound of her hairbrush’s bristles smoothing it with every stroke.

Once she had brushed it fifty more times, Emily opened her eyes to look down at the waves resting in her lap and on her leg, and smiled in satisfaction of their soft, silken beauty. She put down the brush and stood up, tossing her luxuriant mane against her back, and rummaging a drawer for a set of hair pins, putting them in her purse in case the weather didn’t cooperate later in the day. Emily put on her makeup and got dressed, finishing off her look with a long, black maxi dress that not only showed off her broad shoulders, but also would make her hair more striking after its treatment at the end of the day. 

Emily took one more gander at herself in the mirror, admiring her look for the morning: the black mascara contrasted well against her blue-green eyes and matched her dress, the hemline of which ended just below her ankles allowing her black flat-laden feet to poke out underneath it. Meanwhile, her long, luxurious mane could have looked better only because she hadn’t washed it in a few days, but she was looking forward to getting that taken care of later. 

Feeling satisfied with her appearance, Emily whipped around and strode out of her apartment, allowing her hair to fly with a scintillating grace around her head, briefly tickling her cheeks with the movement before resting against her back, where it bounced with vivacious life upon every movement. She strode down the staircase from her apartment to the sidewalk, tucking a loose lock behind her ear as she stepped into the sunlight, in which she could feel her hair glimmering its brilliant golden shine, and the green of her eyes became more striking. After unlocking her car, she opened the door and draped her hair over her shoulder with one hand, careful not to accidentally get it stuck in the car door like she had one morning in the past. . .

. . .and just like that, Emily lost herself in a memory of her junior year of high school. 

“Come on, Emily!! You’re gonna be late!!” she heard her mother shout from the kitchen. 

“Just a second!” 17-year old Emily responded, as she was running a hot straightener down the length of her hair, which at the time fell all the way to the middle of her butt. Her hair was naturally wavy, so when she straightened it at this point in her life, the ends of her locks tickled the tops of her thighs. When she was satisfied, Emily turned off her straightener and bolted toward the kitchen, her curtain of golden blonde hair trailing behind her. 

“Sorry,” apologized Emily, motioning to her hair as she picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter.

“You know, you wouldn’t be running late if your hair were shorter,” her mother intoned. 

“Or if I weren’t up studying so late,” Emily quipped. 

“When did you go to bed?“ Asked her mother.

“12:30…I think.” 

“Emily….sleep keeps you sharp.” Her mother said. “You don’t want to pay off a sleep debt at the wrong time.”

“I have enough As on my report card to cover it.” Emily insisted, softly smiling as she picked up her backpack. 

“And I’m proud of you for that.” Her mother said, before hugging her, running a palm down her daughter’s mane. “Have a good day! Love you!”

“Love you too!” Emily said, bolting out of the kitchen. She opened the door to the outside and shut it, only to be jerked back suddenly. 

“OWWW!!” Emily screamed, before turning around. . .to see that she had accidentally shut her hair in the door behind her. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle before opening the door to see her mom struggling to hold back a laugh of her own.

“Case in point.” Said her mother. 

“Minor setback.” responded Emily with a sheepish chuckle, before draping her mane over one shoulder and briskly striding toward her car. 

Back in reality, this flashback had brought a smile to Emily’s face, as she considered it a perfect memory to entertain herself with when she was in line at the bank. However, her train of thought was broken when she got the feeling of someone approaching her from behind, then heard a shrill female voice yell, “Becca! Get back here NOW!”

Emily spun around, one hand coming up on reflex to keep her hair from her face. She narrowed her eyes in confusion upon seeing an irritated adult woman look up at her. 

“I’m sorry.” Responded the woman. “My daughter was about to bother you, and…”

Emily didn’t hear the woman trail off, because she looked down to see a child before her. The girl looked to be around five or so years old, keeping her hand held out from where it was reaching for Emily’s hair. Her eyes were so wide in terror of getting caught, that Emily had no choice but to laugh. 

“It’s okay, you can touch it if you want.” She crouched down, letting her magnificent silk rush over both her shoulders in full view of the astonished child, who thought Rapunzel was standing before her very eyes. She looked ready to turn and run, but she gathered her courage instead and hesitantly reached out to stroke the luscious, golden mane. After allowing this for a minute or so, Emily stood up, tossing her locks behind her back, where they naturally settled back into place almost like magic to the girl, who smiled shyly up at her.

“You’re really pretty,” she said, her voice almost too soft to hear. Emily smiled back.

“Aww, thank you! So are you.”

The girl blushed, looking up at Emily with a sheepish smile as the teller called for the next person in line, to which Emily turned in her direction to see no one else in front of her. 

“You be good, now!” Emily smiled at the girl before turning back around and making her way toward the teller, draping her silken mane over one shoulder before sliding a deposit slip over the desk.

The teller took Emily’s slip, her eyes scanning the length of her customer’s locks from root to tip. “How often does that happen to you?”

Emily chuckled. “All the time”

The teller smiled. “She thought you needed rescuing.”

“…yeah, you could say that.” Emily responded, smiling back.

Later, Emily was sitting on the patio of her campus library reading a book as her silken hair delicately fluttered back and forth in the cool spring breeze, its comforting length and weight keeping her figure warm as she scanned her story, eyes wide in fascination until she looked up, thinking she had heard something behind her. Emily turned around to look out the corner of her eye and sure enough, saw her best friend Laura making a beeline for her.

She smiled at the sight of her, as Laura had her own hand in Emily’s hair journey: she helped her put it in braids before gym class, lent an accessory when she had misplaced a hair tie, there was even a point during her senior year in high school where Emily had rested her head against Laura’s legs during a hallway study session so all her three feet long golden tresses laid across the laps of both Laura and their classmate Heather, allowing them to brush, braid or stroke the silken river. She loved the opportunity to play with Emily’s hair, and Laura returned the favor, letting Emily put up and style her own straight, waist-length chestnut brown locks when needed. Their bond was formed in moments like those to the point where they were still best friends here and now. 

“Hey, Em!” Laura greeted. “What’cha reading?” Laura wondered, as she dug her small fingers into the warm, golden jungle adorning Emily’s scalp, and gently finger combed the entire length of her best friend’s hair. 

“Crime and Punishment,” responded Emily with a smile. “Just doing a quick skim before the mid-term next week.”

“Come on, Em. You have all weekend to study. Tonight’s all about the big dinner and dance!”

“I know. . .” Emily said, “but there’s a lot to digest. So much about the consequences of murder, the psychological effects of crime…..” 

Emily stopped to yawn. “….and the philosophy of nihilism….”

Laura chuckled. “Have you gotten any sleep this week?”

“Three to five hours a night.”

“Damn, girl,” Laura reacted, gently stroking her friend’s tresses. “Get to bed early or you’ll fall asleep during the midterm.”

“That’s nothing coffee hasn’t fixed.” Emily responded. “You worry too much about me.”

“But you do too much,” Laura said. “I’m just saying you work so hard on your art, your schoolwork, your hair, and any free time you have, you’re out and about. Don’t collapse at the worst possible moment or you’ll lose everything.”

“Thanks for the concern…but I’ll be okay.” Emily assured, smiling at her friend, only to notice the sky behind her getting cloudier.

“Somehow, I knew it was supposed to storm tonight” Emily sighed, before rummaging through her purse for the hair pins she had collected earlier. “Of all the days, it had to be the soiree…”

“It’s only supposed to rain for, like, an hour,” informed Laura. 

“Oh, so it’ll have passed by the time my hair appointment is done. That’s good.” Emily said, as she gathered her tumbling tresses and started putting them up into an elegant bun.

“Hair appointment????” Laura exclaimed, reaching for a swath of hair her best friend hadn’t pinned up yet. “Em, don’t do it!! Your hair is so beautiful!!!!” 

“Relax, I’m just getting a blowout and a shampoo treatment.” Emily said, using the locks closest to her head to pull their excess length out of Laura’s hand. The feeling of her best friend’s tresses slipping away from her touch felt like a strange goodbye gesture to Laura. This was the first time Emily mentioned anything to her about a hair appointment, and she had heard a LOT of stories from friends who had their own long hair cut off against their will by scissor-happy stylists. The last thing she wanted was for her real life Rapunzel to have the saddest one of them all, but when Emily wanted something, she worked to earn it, so if that’s all she was getting and her stylist kept her hands off any scissors, there was no point debating her decision.

“No one will need to see your mane to know you’re there…” Laura said, changing the conversation. “…they’ll be able to smell you from a mile away, heh!”

“That’s the idea, Laur.” Emily said, fastening the last pin into her bun with a smile. “Well, best I make it over to the salon now if I want to beat the rain! Thanks for stopping by.”

“Anytime! You’re always easy to find.” Laura stated, hugging her best friend and rubbing her back for effect. “See you tonight!”

Emily strode away from the library with her purse draped over her shoulder, and a smile on her face that was soon to fall into a thoughtful expression. I do too much? She thought to herself. I’m on the Dean’s List for a reason…I’ve handled all my stresses well up to this point…..

Those thoughts had crept into her mind and stayed there on her commute from her university’s campus to the salon. She soon stepped into the beauty parlor and was about to make her way toward the reception desk, but strangely enough, there was no one in sight. In fact, she scanned the salon and oddly enough, there were no stylists at their stations. Emily’s face fell into a look of confused concern as she tried to rationalize what was going on. Maybe she’s in the bathroom, she thought, before taking a seat and flipping through a magazine of hair styles. 

It brought back memories of her last drastic haircut back in middle school, when her mother made her chop her hip-length waves to the chin length bob she oh so detested. She contrasted the memory with that of a style change she received in her senior year of high school, when her stylist from adolescence combed her then butt-length locks down over her face until her vision was darkened by a thick curtain of her hair. She remembered the heavenly smell of the lavender shampoo she used on her hair that morning, and how quiet the salon was until her stylist slid a pair of scissors in the space between her hair and her sparkling blue eyes.

It was hard to watch the scissors close around her hair and send three-feet long swathes of hair sliding down the cape. Slowly but surely though, more and more light filtered through her eyes as more of the hair before her was cut away, until her forehead was covered by a perfect golden fringe. When the stylist stepped away to let Emily see the results of her work, her client gasped and covered her mouth in pleasant surprise. When she tilted her eyes up, her lashes brushed the tips of her beautiful bangs, which framed her face alluringly. She was so happy that her mother had finally accepted that her hair was hers to style, and happy that her hairdresser could be trusted with her pride and joy. She hoped the same from Brooke today, not even aware that she was standing before her trying to get her attention.

“Ms. Weiland?” 

Back in reality, Emily darted up from her book to see Brooke, a slender, late-20s female with curly dark hair tied in a small ponytail and a wide, toothy smile.

“Brooke?”

“That’s me!” chirped her stylist. “Sorry to keep you waiting, I was cleaning up the break room.” 

“It’s no trouble. . .” Emily responded. “. . .uh. . .where is everybody?”

“Home,” answered Brooke. “I’m closing up the shop tonight. You’re my last appointment for the day!”

“I’m. . .happy to have that honor,” Emily replied, chuckling. 

“It’s mine to take care of you today.” Brooke said, flashing a smile of perfect white teeth. “Come on back! I’ll get you started.” 

“Thank you!” Emily said, before standing up and following Brooke as she gestured in the direction of her station.

“So are you new in town? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before.” Brooke wondered.

“Oh, I just don’t go to salons that often.” Emily replied. 

“I can see that.” Brooke observed as her eyes drifted upward to look at the massive bun on her new client’s head. “Show me what you got!”

“Okay!” Said Emily, before turning around to face the mirror and removing each pin from her up-do, resting each of them on the counter beside her one by one. With practiced hands, she found the tips of her locks amongst the bulletproof mass of her bun and threw them outwards, allowing her prize possession to unfurl in the heavy cascade before Brooke’s very eyes.

“Oh my God!!” Exclaimed her stylist, as she watched Emily’s blonde waterfall ripple all the way down to just past her knees. . “. . .how. . .how long did it take to grow that long???”

“Almost eight years,” replied Emily, who fluffed her massive mane of living silk one more time before admiring her reflection in the mirror.

“That’s all it took?” Brooke inquired, scanning her client’s hair from root to tips with her eyes.

“Yeah. . .I kinda cheated and took biotin. But the faster it grows, the less time it has to thin or get damaged.”

“I’ll say. . .” Brooke agreed, stepping toward her client and stroking her hair at her shoulders with one hand, albeit slowly. Her client’s locks had the thickness of cotton which brought quite the resistance, but they still flowed like the finest satin with naturally luscious buoyancy. This uncanny texture let Brooke’s fingers slide down the beautiful length with minimal effort. Until today, the stylist had never felt hair as silken and abundant as the golden curtain before her, and it started to make her jealous with envy.

“Does it ever give you migraines?” the stylist wondered, trying to take her mind off her growing resentment.

“Not often. And even when they do, ibuprofen knocks them out.” Said Emily, not even registering that Brooke was now threading both hands through her locks. 

“Wow. . .I don’t even think mine could ever be like yours. . .this is by far the longest hair I’ve ever worked on. . .and the most beautiful.”

Emily chuckled. “Thank you. . .it’s taken a lot of work, but it’s all been worth it.” She smiled before Brooke pulled her hands out of her living satin.

“So will my magic…before we begin, though, I can give you a shampoo and conditioner treatment of my own, free of charge if you like!” Offered Brooke.

“Oh. . .uh. . .sure!” Emily said, turning around, her waves whipping with the movement. “What products do you use?”

“Only the best.” Brooke assured. “I’ll be right back;  just make yourself comfortable at my station while I go get them!”

Emily looked over her shoulder and nodded, shouting “Okay” as Brooke made her way to the employee lounge in the back. There, she was looking for products, throwing an empty shampoo bottle across the room in a fit of rage. Here she was closing up on her last day of work before moving out of state, and of course, her last client was making her work cut out for her.

Girls with long hair were always so particular about what they wanted to the point of it being infuriating, but THIS was a challenge she did NOT want to take on. There’s also the matter of fact that every time this girl came in for a shampoo treatment from Kendra, she got all the attention from her clients and co-workers. She was treated like a celebrity, what she wanted to be for her entire life. It just isn’t fair, she thought. 

But then. . .she had an idea. Hair like Emily’s could sell VERY well on sites like HairTrader….and a little more cash on hand never hurt anybody, let alone someone moving cross-country. And if her unsuspecting client tried to sue afterwards? That’s the salon’s burden. They deserved it after the hell Brooke had put up with for all the years she’d worked there. Brooke giggled in excitement as this idea came to mind, but she took a deep breath and sighed herself back to an even composure, as to avoid appearing conspicuous upon coming back out to her station, where her unsuspecting victim was waiting with a golden curtain of hair so long and thick, that no hint of her chair could be seen underneath it.

“Okay, what are we working with today,” Brooke asked herself, before threading her hands into hair so abundant that they were invisible to the naked eye until they pulled her silken locks upwards and out in a fluffing motion. Brooke did this over and over until their unbelievable texture and mass exhausted her.

“I’m feeling a burn in my biceps just from this!” Brooke said as she nevertheless continued to lift up her client’s hair, to a smile from Emily in response to her comment.

“It does weigh a ton. . .but I can’t thin it.” Emily said, watching her healthy, heavy hair fly upward and against her back in the reflection with each flick of Brooke’s tiny hands. A small, but prideful smile formed on her face when she noticed an instance of her locks shimmering in the lights and gaining more volume the longer her stylist fluffed them. “It’s one of the things that makes me. . .me.”

“How often do you wash it?” Brooke wondered, as she stopped fluffing Emily’s mane. She then placed her fingertips at Emily’s hairline right at her forehead and gently raked them down the entire length of her hair from root to tip.

Emily tilted her head back until it was against the top edge of the chair, looking up with wide eyes as she took in the soothing feeling of Brooke’s pampering. “Uh, twice a week. Maybe three if I have an art show.”

“Oh, you’re an artist? What’s your focus?” Brooke wondered. Emily’s hair was so long, that Brooke had to lift the excess length off the ground and step backward to run her fingers through the entire length. It took fifteen seconds for Brooke’s hands to run down the entire length of Emily’s hair from crown to tips, letting her client’s silken treasure slip through her fingers to delicately rest against the chair before repeating the diligent process all over again. Her stylist’s manicured nails and slender fingers running down her scalp all the way to the tips of her locks sent Emily into such an engrossment, Brooke’s question didn’t register until a few seconds later.

“Huh? Oh, I—I’m sorry. I paint with oils. I also have a second major in Library Studies and an internship set at MoMA after I graduate.”

“Wow, congratulations! Have you been there before?”

“Several times. I did a term paper on a Klimt exhibit there last semester.”

“You have good taste in art. . .” Brooke said, before turning back down toward the smooth golden silk in her hands. “. . .both off and on your head.”

“Thanks. . .” Emily said, smiling. “. . .I’m ready for you to wash it.”

“Has it been a few days? It has so much volume and sheen that I don’t feel much of a difference!” Brooke said, in a frustrated intonation before sinking a hand into Emily’s locks again and absent-mindedly tugging a bit harder on them, to the point where a single solitary strand broke off on accident.

“Ouch. . .” Emily groaned. 

“Oh. . .sorry.” Brooke apologized. “I was losing myself in the thickness of your hair so much that I just tugged it harder on impulse!” Brooke examined the single golden strand in her hands, one that was so long that a foot extended past her right hand. “How long is your hair. . .? Have you measured it recently?”

“Four feet even.” 

“I see. . .” Brooke said, flicking the long strand between her fingers out of her hands so it could drift to the floor. Brooke noticed a gleaming shine from the solitary lock in the sunlight as it floated to the ground, and smirked to herself as she was eager to watch more of the literal gold mine in front of her join it in due time. 

“Alright, let me take you to a special sink so I have room for all this.” Brooke said, motioning toward a giant utility sink against a nearby wall. Emily rose from the chair and sat in a plastic one Brooke had placed in front of the trough before whipping her hair back with both her hands, letting it land into the sink with a thunk. 

“Okay….let me secure this around you….” Brooke said, securing a black cape around Emily’s neck. “….I don’t want to get you wet.”

“Um, alright….” Emily said, a bit confused as to why she needed one. Those were reserved for only……one thing…

….but that suspicion was quickly washed away by the burst of warm water from a handheld spout, which Brooke used to wet the entire mass of Emily’s hair from root to tip. With expert hands, Brooke raked her fingers through the golden tresses, making sure every strand met water. Brooke even went the extra mile to massage Emily’s temples when her hands were closest to them, making her feel a comfort she had never felt before.

“How does your head feel?” Brooke wondered, continuing the process of wetting her client’s silken blanket. “Hair this thick and long must feel so heavy when it’s wet.” 

“It is, but the end result is always worth the work.” Emily assured.

“Yes, so it is…” Brooke said, smirking to herself as she pumped a LARGE dollop of chamomile shampoo into both her hands and massaged it into Emily’s scalp in a circular motion. “. . .I’ll enjoy looking at the floor when this is all said and done.”

Emily blinked twice. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Brooke said, before massaging more shampoo further down the length of Emily’s locks. The slight, gentle tugs she made on her mane as she was working downward, as well as the feeling of her manicured fingers running down her scalp were very soothing and only served to relax Emily. She loved it when someone gave her so much care. In fact, the last person to do that physically was. . .Ryan. . .

. . .and all of a sudden, Emily had slipped into another daydream, this time of Ryan, an early twenties male art student with a lean muscular build who Emily had been dating on and off for the past two years. They met in the library one fall day in her sophomore year, when he saw her wearing her luscious hair loose and free, and was instantly compelled to talk to the real life Rapunzel.

For Emily, the feeling was mutual, and the two fell in love from there, with Ryan lovingly running his hands through her hair at every chance he could. They spent every waking moment together, from study sessions and long walks through the campus garden to date nights at fancy restaurants and even nights of pleasure such as the one in Emily’s current dream, which saw her lover shirtless on her bed. 

“Come on, Em! What’s taking so long?” Asked the blonde.

“Do you even have to ask?” Emily shouted from the bathroom. 

“Sometimes I think you love your hair more than me.” Ryan snarked with a chuckle.

“Believe me, babe, once you see this. . .” Emily said, sticking a freshly shaven leg out of her doorway and into her bedroom. 

“. . .you’ll never take your eyes off of it.”

At that declaration, Ryan turned up to his girlfriend, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her full body stepping into his field of vision.

There Emily was, standing before him at the foot of her bed completely naked. . .but what covered her chest wasn’t a revealing piece of clothing, but a four-inch thick rope of her luxurious silky mane. Her hair was long enough for her to form a makeshift bra to cover her supple breasts, while there was just enough length remaining to cover her snatch. Ryan gazed at his lover with his jaw dropped in amazement, while Emily had her hands against her hips, and was giving her boyfriend a proud smile.

“What do you think?” She asked, swaying her hips. 

“I think I want you.” Ryan finally responded. 

“I know you do.” Emily flirted, teasing Ryan with a twirl before pulling her hair out of its makeshift lingerie so she could climb onto the bed. After sharing a few kisses on the lips, Ryan gently cupped one of Emily’s breasts, eliciting moans from her lover while his tongue traveled down the curve of her shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, Emily. . .” Ryan whispered, as his girlfriend bent down to plant kisses down his chest, all the way to his erect shaft. 

“Am I. . .?” Emily asked, before flipping all four feet of hair over her head, obscuring her vision, but allowing herself to use it to tickle Ryan’s extension. 

“Or is this?” 

Ryan let out groans of arousal as his member tilted further and further upward every time her hair caressed it. Emily even went the extra mile and loosely tied it around his shaft and then slowly but surely backed off the bed, letting the silky lengths of her titanic locks rub against him, as the tips of her mane ran down his body from head to toe. 

“It’s you. . .” Ryan said, in between gasps for air. He looked down the bed to watch Emily match his gaze, flipping all four feet of her impenetrable, soft as silk waves over her shoulder to do so, letting it come to a natural rest on her back. 

“What?” She wondered.

“….it’s always you….” 

“I thought so.” Emily said with a flirtatious smile before diving back onto the bed into the loving arms of her lover. “Now finish me!!”

“Gladly.” Ryan obliged, before delicately and gently entering his girlfriend. She moaned with pleasure and delight over the warmth she felt radiating through her body as Ryan thrust himself over and over and over, her orgasms getting louder and louder with every pump until the two lovers climaxed at the same time. Emily arched upward from the impact, and Ryan caught her in his arms, their movements synced in perfect harmony even when they collapsed onto the bed, with Ryan having one of his big, but gentle hands in Emily’s scalp. He was quick to roll off Emily’s body so she wasn’t crushed by the weight of his muscular body. The two lovers just laid in the mess of Emily’s sheets for what felt like an hour, with her long, disheveled silk in between them like a great golden wall.

“You okay?” Ryan wondered, having turned on his side to face his girlfriend, gently pulling on the excess length of her mane that lay in front of him. Emily silently exhaled in tiredness, as she was not only just a few winks away from dozing off, but also deep in thought. She really wanted to believe that Ryan loved her for her, but he had used the golden blanket attached to her head to get her attention just now, and it took her hair to stimulate him.

The thought she was loved for her hair and not herself had crossed Emily’s mind more than once over the course of their relationship, and the anxiety it conjured within her made her break things off with the sweet young man more than once, because she wanted to neither confront him about it, nor risk sacrificing her prize possession to get the answer. But she would be satiated at least for this wonderful night, if he did one thing, which Emily asked for a few beats after Ryan’s question, his strong but gentle hands smoothing out her unkempt locks.

“Just hold me….”

Ryan happily obliged, taking Emily into his caring arms with a soft embrace, then threaded his hand into her locks, slowly and gently running his fingers through the living satin until she fell asleep. Her night of pleasure was pure bliss then, as it was when she dreamt about it now. But all of a sudden, Emily’s trance was broken again when Brooke called to her from the real world.

“So tell me. . .”

Emily opened her eyes and gasped in surprise to find herself back in the salon, where Brooke was now massaging conditioner on the bottom half of her pride and joy. 

“. . .tell me what?” Emily asked. “Sorry, I almost dozed off there for a sec.” 

She let out a nervous chuckle, oblivious to Brooke’s mischievous grin. I have her right where I want her….the stylist thought. 

“I’ll say you did.” Brooke said, scrubbing the tips of her client’s tresses with conditioner so that her entire mane was covered in white, soapy cream. “Anyway. . .did you have a goal length for this hair?”

“Um. . .not really.” Emily answered. “My friends like to joke that I’ll be Rapunzel or Lady Godiva in no time, but I’ll see how long it wants to go, I guess.”

“Won’t be too much longer. . .” Brooke muttered to herself underneath the loud spray of water rushing from her handheld faucet. She turned it on to rinse the conditioner out of Emily’s hair, using her free hand to rake more out for good measure. 

“Why’s that?” Emily wondered, motioning her eyes to look at her stylist. She even tilted her head upward to meet Brooke’s hands as she finished rinsing the conditioner out of her client’s hair.

“Oh, just because everyone has a terminal length.” Brooke answered, turning off the faucet. “Hair like yours is so rare. . .it makes me jealous.” 

She continued the conversation as she grabbed two white towels from a nearby drawer. “I tried to grow my hair to my waist for the longest time when I was a teenager, but it always grew too slow. Perhaps I’m just not the patient type.”

“I think you are. . .you’ve taken your time with my hair.” Emily said.

“Anything to satisfy a customer.” Brooke said, before wringing out Emily’s locks dry, water pouring out of them in a flood like a heavy rainfall. It was here that Brooke’s tugs began to get a touch more aggressive, with Emily’s head jerking back slightly more suddenly more than once. 

“Ow…are you sure you’re okay?” Emily wondered.

“Hm? Oh, yes, sorry.” Apologized Brooke. “There’s just so much that I have to be a bit more vigorous. Bear with me, I’m almost done.”

“Okay. . .” said Emily, before looking back at Brooke’s station. “How long have you been a hairdresser?”

“Oh, eleven years. . .that’s ten years longer than I should have been.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“My true passion was acting. I had an audition once but my boss here at the time wouldn’t let me go to it.”

“Gosh. . .I’m so sorry…”

“Eh, it is what it is. . .” Brooke said, leaning Emily forward and flipping her massive mane over her head. “but all dreams come true, some day…” Brooke trailed off, wrapping Emily’s hair in two massive towels before sitting her upright. “Come back to my station and I’ll dry you off.”

Emily said that was very well before standing up, struggling to keep both towels balanced around her head with her hands as she staggered toward Brooke’s station. She had never had her hair wrapped like this, even when her hair was shorter. It felt funny, but nice all the same. And that chamomile shampoo and her massages, she thought, they almost put me to sleep! Maybe I do need to cut down on the late nights… 

Then she sat down in the red barber’s chair and felt herself sink into the leather armrests and the seat. She stared at herself in the mirror smiling while Brooke stepped behind her and pushed her head until her chin touched her chest so she could pull both towels from her head, letting the damp dry mass of knee-length hair fall in waves over her eyes, blocking all the light from the salon like a golden wall. It didn’t last too long, however, because Brooke soon slid her arm underneath her mane and flipped all four feet of it backward, causing it to hit against the back of the chair with a slap. 

“Just lean back and I’ll blow dry you in a bit!” Brooke said from another station. “I have to use two on you considering how long your hair is.”

“The struggle is real!” Emily chuckled as she shifted backwards in her seat to lean back fully against the chair, allowing an additional six inches or so of her hair to pile on the floor in a pile of ravishing, if temporarily damp, silk. Brooke shoved the plugs of both blow dryers into her station’s outlet and turned them on, pointing one at the top of Emily’s head, and the other one underneath Emily’s massive mane at her neck. 

“Using both of these babies at once will make the process go faster!” Brooke assured, as she slowly but surely moved both dryers down her hair as the top of her head became fully dry. 

Emily nodded in understanding, then glanced in the mirror to watch her more of her hair lift higher and higher in the mirror. Eventually, all four feet of her hair was billowing around her face, body and the chair like curtains in the wind. It was a sight to behold for Emily, who was only feeling more and more comfortable in the styling chair by the minute, and more proud of all the hard work she had put into making her hair into the flowing, silken cascade. Meanwhile, the dryers’ warmth along with the smell of the chamomile shampoo Brooke had used sent her into a deeper splendor; its fruity scent stung her nose with a pleasant aroma that made her settle into the chair even more. . .and even leave her feeling a bit intoxicated. 

She was so excited to turn heads at her department’s mid-semester soiree that night to the point where she didn’t even realize Brooke had turned off both dryers, and her now fully dry locks floated back against the chair, allowing Emily to see the full effects of Brooke’s treatment. Her voluminous, fluffy hair hung in a gorgeous fall of thick, lively waves with a radiant golden glisten from the lights, with their straight and even tips drifting against the linoleum floor. Right then and there, Emily looked and felt like a living princess. 

“Now I just want to brush this out, for memory’s sake. . .” Brooke said, grabbing her biggest wooden paddle brush. “. . .then I’ll start the official blowout process.”

“Do what you must. . .” Emily muttered, slipping in and out of a sleepy hypnosis as she felt the many bristles of Brooke’s brush sink into the tips of her hair and gently pull them straight downward, only traveling toward the floor for a foot before Brooke repeated the process on the section next to the one she had already brushed, then the one after that, again and again until she eventually placed the brush a foot higher up than where Brooke started. It took ten whole minutes for Brooke’s process to reach the top of her head, where in which she was brushing the entire length of Emily’s mane, hair that was so long that her locks flew out behind her in a beautiful flourish that shone beautifully in the lights and added more volume with every stroke.

With each gesture Emily’s head gently tilted further backwards until she was leaning back in the chair, struggling to stay awake. Stroke after stroke, the shampoo’s sleep-inducing aroma and the comfort of Brooke’s care, along with the sound and feel of the brush gliding effortlessly through all 48 inches of her ravishingly luscious locks, were powerful enough to make Emily’s eyes drift shut.  I am beautiful, Emily thought, before falling out of consciousness in a blissful snooze.

Brooke chuckled upon seeing her unsuspecting victim fast asleep. Now it was time to get to work. She pushed Emily’s titanic tresses over both her shoulders, then used the comb in her front pocket to smooth them out so they covered her like a cloak. Brooke then picked up a small pair of Oster clippers, not bothering to search for a guard. Brooke turned on the clippers, their loud buzzing filling the silence throughout the salon. She placed her left hand on the back of Emily’s hair, then she placed the blade at her forehead, right in front of her center parting. With a smile on her face, Brooke affirmed, “Rapunzel no more…”

. . .before plunging the clippers through Emily’s parting, and into the heart of her crowning glory. Impossibly long sheets of silky, golden hair fell in curtains past Emily’s eyes, their shorn ends tickling her face before they landed in her lap. The thickness of her mane did cause Brooke’s clippers to slow down their path of destruction, but the stylist’s determined hand was relentless, keeping up the pace until her weapon of choice made it all the way up to the top of Emily’s head. She pulled them out, then gathered the mess of hair at her feet into her client’s lap, and started her clippers’ mission again on the locks to the left of where she began. 

Another unbelievable amount of heavy blonde tresses fell into the waiting cape before tumbling off it, caressing Brooke’s legs on their way down to the floor. Brooke picked up this lush puddle of golden waves and set it in the already enormous pile of hair that had formed in her lap. Brooke made one more slow pass on the top left side of her client’s hair and set the shorn bundle of silk on her lap before changing her position to the left temple.

She lifted up the hair in front of her left ear and slowly but surely clipped her way through it by driving the clippers up and under the golden sheet, going from her cheek all the way to the top of her head, up and up and up, exposing the front of Emily’s left ear for all to see. Brooke added more of Emily’s gold treasure to the mountain that had accumulated in her client’s lap, then placed the clippers in front of her ear and moved around them, revealing the entire small roundness of Emily’s ear. The tiny studs she wore in her lobes sparkled in the fluorescent lights of the salon, just as her beautiful golden hair did when it floated to the floor in pounds.

Brooke kept buzzing behind Emily’s ear over and over until four feet of gold in the back and right sides of her victim’s head had obstructed the entire front and left side being reduced to stubble. Smiling in satisfaction, Brooke kicked the hair that she had let hit the floor out of her way before turning her attention to Emily’s crown on the back of her head, where her once-impenetrable curtain of hair was at its thickest. Brooke felt overwhelmed over how much more work she had to do, but closed her eyes and sighed, mentally telling herself this was her last job, then she pushed Emily’s head forward until her chin touched her chest. 

Upon this, Emily suddenly awoke, instinctively taking a whiff of air upon doing so. She smiled in delight over the sweet aroma of the shampoo Brooke used in the treatment just minutes ago. Not only that, but she felt the soft caress of her tresses tickling her face—wait, she thought, what’s tickling my face?!?!

And that’s when she gasped in realization. 

Her face was buried in her own hair. 

Even though she had only worked on one side, the mountain of legendary golden hair in her lap had grown so high, it reached her shoulders. She trembled in her seat as Brooke drove the clippers up her nape, and they chewed away at the back of her heavy, silken locks, moving up her head until they reached her crown. Brooke took a step to the side to let another hair waterfall plummet to the floor, and even her bare feet with a heavy thud. Brooke flinched in surprise, but with a smile, slipped her foot out of her sandal and petted Emily’s shorn tresses with her toes. 

“Still soft to the end. . .” Brooke commented, before plowing the clippers up Emily’s nape to the right of the bald strip, and sending another stream of thick golden silk down to the floor. Brooke refused to let up, moving to the center of her nape and driving the clippers upward, while Emily could feel her body shaking more and more, her head feeling obscenely colder and lighter with every pass as each severance of a path of her hair felt like she was losing one of her limbs. 

This isn’t happening. . . she thought to herself, her eyes still closed, and her face deep into her shorn glory. This is all a dream. . .please. . .let it all be a dream. . .

But the clippers drove over the small bump in the back of her head. . .

. . .and the shudder that ran through her body forced her head to dart up with her eyes snapping open. . .yet she was still facing away from the mirror at Brooke’s station and couldn’t see her reflection.

“Oh good. . .you are awake.” Brooke said. “You wouldn’t want to be caught in broad daylight with hair like this. . .”, Brooke bent over, picking up some shorn hair from the floor.

“. . .or with hair like THIS. . .”

And that’s when the cruel stylist dropped a massive bundle of 48 inch-long hair over Emily’s face and into her lap. However, the large mass of hair had become too big for Emily’s lap to handle, and an overwhelming majority of Emily’s severed blonde waves slid down her chest and landed on the floor with an audible thud. Emily’s mouth dropped open agape, but no sound came out. Brooke didn’t give her enough time to process her loss, however, for she had already started to drive the clippers up the right side of the back of her nape, this time, catching the severed tresses and dumping them onto Emily’s lap before they could hit the floor.

“What are you doing to me????” Emily exclaimed, demanding an answer as she tried to fight out of the chair. 

“Hold still…” Brooke demanded, pushing her client back into the chair with authority. “You had a bunch of mattes, so I’m cleaning them all away.”

Emily tried to process that in disbelief, but her thoughts went from angered confusion to crushing shock when her stylist planted the clippers at the top of her crown and pressed her palm against the back of her head. . .

. . .to which, Emily loudly gasped in disbelief upon the sensation of Brooke’s touch, confirming her worst anxiety. 

All of her beautiful hair was being buzzed to stubble.

It was a feeling that made her sick to her stomach, and sent an unrelenting wave of shock and fear throughout her body. It was one that she couldn’t hold back any longer, and the sound of the still humming clippers couldn’t mask the wailing of Emily’s cries, even as Brooke pushed them to the front of her head and sent another unbelievable amount of shining golden locks past Emily’s eyes, past her nose through which she could still smell the heavenly shampoo. . .all the way to join the rest of her mane in her lap.

She was totaled with disbelief, with nothing to do but watch as her ravishing and lush golden blonde waves were falling to the floor all around her with every run of the clippers. A couple more passes, and the top of Emily’s head was completely denuded. Meanwhile, Emily’s shoulders heaved with great, tearful sobs as all she could do was close her eyes. . .and reminisce. 

She remembered the time she first heard her hair swish around her body upon turning her head. . .

. . .an instance where she held out her hair as far out from her sides as she could for Ryan, and slowly but surely let it all slip through her fingers and come to a rest around her torso. . .

. . .the time she pushed her mane over the back of her dining room chair and realized it finally touched the floor when she sat. . .

. . .a day she went to the park and the wind blew through her hair in a radiant storm of golden satin. . .

. . .and even two nights ago, when she blow-dried it after her shower and watched it billow around her body. . .

. . .until Brooke drove the clips down her side, and shaved her right sideburn to the skin, dropping the four foot-long section right into the new pile of hair that had formed in her victim’s lap. Brooke then guided the clippers around her small right ear, erasing every last trace of silk all around it, letting it fall with abandon. Brooke then drove the clippers down her temples, sending the last vestiges of Emily’s healthy mane into her lap. 

Before Emily could take everything in, Brooke drove the clippers all around her head once more to clear it of any isolated strands. She pushed Emily’s head every which way, shaving off every last trace of hair. The feel of Brooke’s hands against her stubble-covered head paired with the sight of tiny hairs falling past her eyes and sticking to the tears on her cheeks made the sick feeling in Emily’s stomach grow worse and worse. After making a few more passes from the nape all the way to the front of her head, Brooke buzzed the last few outlying strands of Emily’s pride and joy and let them drift down to the ground, their dying shine serving as a final goodbye to the girl who maintained them for so long.

Brooke finally turned the clippers off, plunging the room into absolute silence for the first time in what felt like forever, but there was no solace to be felt by the girl in her chair. As the stylist stepped away from the station, Emily’s chest heaved with heavy sobs as she stared at the massive pile of her former golden glory through eyes filled with water. Although she was unable to see her reflection, Emily could feel air all around her head. Terrified by the sensation, she shook her head . . . and couldn’t feel ANY hair at all swirling around her. Emily knelt her head and face back down toward the golden mountain of shorn blonde silk until Brooke returned to her station with a small bowl of water, a straight razor and a bottle of shaving cream. 

“There there, Emily . . . “ Brooke cooed, moving to Emily’s front and pushing her chin upward so they could meet each other’s eyes. “ . . . it’s almost over.”

“Why. . .?” cried her client. “Why did you do this to me????”

“There were just too many tangles and mattes that were hiding amongst all that mass.” Brooke replied. “And you said for me to do what I must…..so it sadly all had to come off.”

Emily’s face contorted into a look of anguished disbelief. That was a LIE, she thought to herself. I gave my hair nothing but affection and care for eight years! I would NEVER allow that to happen, EVER!! Never…..and now it’s gone……all….gone…..

As her client ruminated, Brooke moved to Emily’s back and squirted a dollop of lather in the center of Emily’s head, then spread it around her entire top with a brush before picking up the straight razor. The slimy and wet texture of the foam broke Emily’s train of thought, making her sob and shake her head once more until Brooke set her hands on Emily’s shoulders.

“Please, hold still . . . “ Brooke quietly asserted. “You don’t want me to make the wrong move, do you? Otherwise, all this hair will NEVER grow back.”

Emily settled down to the best of her ability but whimpered silently as she continued to stare at her lap, where an unbelievable amount of her healthy, silken hair lay without life in a pile up to her chin. She trembled as Brooke made the first pass up the back of her head with the straight razor, right over the small round bone in the center of her nape. 

But Brooke refused to let up. Emily felt her hand push her head forward until her chin touched her chest as she continued to shave the nape of her neck and the back of her head, moving the blades of her straight razor higher and higher as it reached her crown, leaving a clean path of bare skin without a shadow of proof that she once had a lush curtain of knee-length hair.

“I have to say, I’m surprised . . . given how thick your hair was, all that’s left isn’t putting up too much of a fight.” Brooke said, as she pushed Emily’s unresisting head onto the left shoulder, and slid up the right side of her head with the razor. Emily looked up at the blade from the corner of her eye with fear, before looking down at the floor, only to see another massive pile of her glorious golden silk lying in a ring around the chair. Emily blinked away more tears forming in her eye as she could feel Brooke’s breath on her scalp, as she glided the blade around her small round ear before shaving off what remained of her sideburn.

Then Brooke pushed up on Emily’s left cheek, sending it over to lean on the right shoulder before she shaved up her left sideburn. She had to bend over the top part of Emily’s delicate ear in order to get the stubble behind it. But it wasn’t much of a setback, as Brooke continued shaving downwards from the front side of her left temple to the back, all the while Emily shut her eyes and thought to herself, When will this be over?

Brooke then pushed Emily’s head back to an upright position and moved to her front. All that was left of her pale stubble was on the top of her head. So all Brooke had to do was slide the razor from the back of her head to the front, shaving away the final remnants of Emily’s hair in only ten strokes. For good measure, she went back and coated her entire head in more shaving cream, and scraped the razor all over her scalp in the same pattern as before, but against the grain to make her head perfectly smooth, smiling the whole time as she knew her job was almost done.

Meanwhile, the sound and feel of the blade scraping against bare scalp up and up, over and over again was too much for Emily. I am supposed to have hair there, she thought to herself, as tears streamed from her eyes, closing tighter and tighter with every torturous stroke of the razor until finally, the scraping stopped, and Emily was rendered hairless.

Brooke set the razor and bowl full of water, cream and stubble down on a nearby counter as Emily slowly opened her eyes. She was totaled to the point of devastation, and wished this experience was just a horrible dream, glancing down at the massive pile of hair in her lap that told her she had gone from having 48 inches of golden blonde hair to shaved smooth in one go.

But the nightmare still wasn’t over, as Emily suddenly felt a smattering of lotion onto her newly shaven scalp. The sensation made Emily shudder and shake her head in order to avoid them, but to no avail. Brooke spread the scented lotion all over the top of Emily’s head with her hands, the touch of which caused Emily to freeze in shock. This was the first time she had felt hands massage her naked scalp rather than running through her thick tresses. 

“This will give you the same shine your hair had, Em…” Brooke said with a smirk before picking up a microfiber towel by both ends and rubbing it across the top of her client’s scalp. Emily felt humiliated at the sensation of her head being polished like a bowling ball. This degradation made two more fresh tears roll down her cheeks. . .but then all of a sudden, it was over.

Brooke threw the towel into a hamper full of dirty towels, and brushed her scalp and face with a soft brush, its bristles making her client freeze in shock over the new, unsettling feeling she was experiencing on her head. The stylist circled Emily as she brushed the stray, sheer stubble off the top of her head, then her sides and back, and then her face, where the smallest traces of her silken joy had stuck.

Brooke sighed with accomplishment, setting the horsehair brush on her station before coming to the back of the chair, and turning her victim towards the mirror. But Emily’s eyes remained tightly closed, because the last thing she wanted was to see herself without her healthy mass of soft, shimmering waves. 

“So, Emily,” Brooke said, “ . . . what do you think of the bald . . . new . . . you?”

Emily slowly and weakly peered her eyes open, and gasped in horror at her reflection.

Just thirty minutes ago, she possessed the most beautiful, thick mane of shining, knee-length golden hair on Earth, hair that she spent eight years of her life growing and maintaining with passionate care, hair that shone in the lights no matter the location, lively hair that bounced off her shoulders and came to a natural rest against her back with every step, hair that her friends envied and loved to play with, hair that gave her a warm and comforting weight down her back, but now . . . there was nothing left. All she had was a smooth, tiny bald head that was all white skin wherever she looked. Her forehead went on forever and her ears were so red and small. 

She wept harder than she ever did when the clippers ran against her head. She had nothing to help her cope with stress, nothing to keep herself busy, nothing to play with, nothing to care for, and her head felt obscenely naked and light, oh so light. . .the sight of nothing but skin on her head and a mountain of shorn locks in her lap and scattered in a moat all over the floor made her body shake with the trauma as she cried huge, hot tears that poured from her eyes in a flood into the enormous pile of gold that reached her chin.

Brooke had been stepping around the chair, admiring her work with a sick, malicious grin by running her fingers along various places of Emily’s bare head. The feeling of such a touch felt so cold, so alien, so cruel to Emily that it only made her cry even harder. As the rogue stylist came to Emily’s front, the newly bald girl peered upwards into her torturer’s eyes.

“W-w-why. . .? W-w-why d-d-did you d-do this t-t-t-to me. . .?”

“It’s something I always wanted to do. . .scalp Rapunzel.” Brooke responded with reflection. She isn’t going to try to fight me, is she. . .? the stylist wondered. . .

She definitely wasn’t. Emily had a plethora of thoughts swirling through her head at this moment. Why did this happen to me? How do I make it home with no one seeing me? What do I do? She has to pay for this!! She HAS to!! 

As right as she was, Brooke needed to pay. . .but Emily just didn’t have the strength to fight, at least not now. Throwing a punch and losing her temper was just so unlike her studious, quiet self. . .plus the horror she just went through was way too mentally taxing for her. She was absolutely drained. . .but her hair was her one beauty, her pride and joy. How would she live without it? Maybe. . .Brooke at least had the empathy to—

“C-c-c-can I keep it?” She stammered in between rapid snivels. . .only for Brooke to undo her cape and lift it. Emily’s heart dropped as she watched all the hair in her lap tumble down to join the rest of her shorn gold on the floor. Her mouth gaped open so she could cry fresh tears. Once her crowning glory, once tumbling in rippling waves to her knees, now lay in piles at her feet. Eight years of luxurious care, articulate maintenance and patient growth to make the most gorgeous hair on Earth was gone, soon to become common refuse just like that. Emily spent what felt like forever trying to make sense of it all. . .because that wasn’t garbage, she thought. That was my pride and joy.

However, what was eternity for Emily was only ten seconds in reality, after which indiscernible words from Brooke snapped Emily out of her silent mania.

“I said you can go now, your hair paid for my services.” Brooke said. “It’s gonna cover all my gas when I blow this town tomorrow.”

Emily’s face contorted into a distraught look of disgust. That’s why she put me through this??, she thought. To get a little extra cash?!?!

Bloodshot from crying, her eyes darted around the room maniacally as this revelation processed within her mind. It took too many internal demands to give Emily the wherewithal to get up from the chair. But just as she did, her mouth dropped open in horror at the sheer amount of hair that was scattered around the station. In every direction she could walk, there was a pile of shorn golden locks that should still be on her head. The golden carpet extended all the way from a foot past the left edge of the station to the utility sink against the right wall. Emily sobbed at the sight of lush, four-foot long hair that would never again be brushed, waiting to be discarded.

Brooke finally returned to the crime scene with a broom in hand, and at that image, Emily finally snapped. She darted around all the shorn tresses below her and made a beeline for her tormentor in a ball of white-hot fury.

“YOU BITCH!!!” She exclaimed, slapping the broom out of Brooke’s hands and pinning her against the station behind her. “I COULD SUE YOU FOR THIS!!!”

“You’ll have to find me first.” Brooke responded, “And come up with proof you don’t have. I’m the one with the tools to fight you with, so you’re already in a losing battle. Besides, you said right before you passed out that I could ‘do what I must’, and I did it. So get outta my sight, Baldie.”

Emily’s heart sank once more. She was right. She didn’t have the money for legal fees. And as long as Brooke had heard her say that, the case was open and shut. She wasn’t about to fight any longer either, because Brooke could knock her out with the giant broom she was using to sweep up her luscious tresses, or do worse with a pair of scissors. Whether she was leaving tomorrow or not, this was Brooke’s court. Emily dissolved into tears, shoving past Brooke on her way to the door.

“Hey, before you go. . .” Brooke called, to which Emily whipped around with agony written in her face.

“. . .you can’t forget these.” She finished, holding out her hand. . .which contained the pins that held Emily’s hair up when she arrived. 

The former Rapunzel choked back a heavy sob upon seeing the black metal pins in her tormentor’s hand. She had stripped her of her most prized possession, and now had the audacity to return her something that she wouldn’t get to use for a long time, if ever again. But she couldn’t give Brooke the satisfaction of taking more than she already had, so she extended her trembling hand and snatched them away from her stylist from hell.

She strode for the door, avoiding her reflection in every mirror until she stopped at the front entrance. She had her hand on the metal door handle, it was as cold to the touch as her smooth bald head was to feel. Emily gandered out from the corner of one eye, then the other for potential onlookers. She trembled with anxiety because she couldn’t be seen looking like this, her makeup streaked, eyes puffy from crying, and no hair at all on her head. . .

“Don’t worry. . .” Brooke said from her station. Emily flashed a dirty look at her over her shoulder.

“. . .it grows back.” finished her stylist, giving her a smug and evil smile back. 

From there, Emily turned around and pushed the door open to storm away, right into a downpour as the rain had hit hard during her appointment of torture. 

She sped for her car, her flats getting soaked in the puddles through which she traversed, her dress drenched and sticking to her skin. But the feeling she wanted to escape was the feeling on her head. The multitude of raindrops splashing against her naked scalp sent shivers and shockwaves down her spine and through her body. It was a sensation she hated, yet also gave her the burst of energy she needed to reach her car. Hurriedly, she pulled her keys out of her purse, accidentally dropping them into a pool of water before she could unlock it. She dipped her hand in the muddy puddle, as her entire body was getting drenched in the rain. 

“Come on….” Emily cried, looking over her shoulder for any passers-by, but luckily she was able to retrieve her keys from the ground and unlock her car, getting into it and slamming the door in a rush. She turned the key in the ignition and gripped the steering wheel, her head turned down as she took rapid, shaking breaths. The anxiety she felt was palpable to the point where her heart was pounding a mile a minute.

She just felt so naked without her thick long hair to keep herself dry, to provide its comfort and warmth. But thankfully she didn’t see any strange looks from passers-by or anyone at all, for that matter. They would have been justified, however. She used to be a pretty, but tiny face in a sea of the most luxurious and gorgeous hair anyone had ever seen, and now she was bald as she was on the day she was born. 

Emily immediately cut off that thought for the time being by putting her car in drive, as the cab had warmed her body up enough to make her feel comfortable to at least start the drive home. She put on her seatbelt and took another long, slow but deep breath to calm herself down before backing out of the lot and began the long, slow trek through the rain. 

She drove down the main road, then a winding road, keeping her eyes on her route and away from the rearview mirror. The last thing she wanted to do was look at herself right now. There was no way she could see people, let alone show up at the soiree. She just wanted to get home, to hide herself, to disappear.

Once she pulled into her apartment complex, Emily burst out of the car, slamming the door and locking it with her key before striding toward her building. She was struggling to hold back tears at this point, tears that would disappear in the rain falling about her.  She considered the storm a cry for her loss from the heavens above her, and that kept her as comfortable as she could be on her agonizing walk toward her apartment. 

Emily stepped inside the dark apartment, immediately slamming the door and locking it shut. She shuddered in the mix of sadness over her loss and relief that she was finally in her sanctuary. She tightly clenched her eyes shut as huge tears dripped down her face, her forehead pressed against the door in front of her while she wept. After a few minutes, she finally trudged her way through the apartment, scanning photos on the wall of herself being reminded of her hair journey through the years; her silken locks getting longer with every photo. . .

. . .until she reached her vanity in her bedroom, and saw a completely hairless woman staring back at her. She couldn’t recognize herself with eyes red from crying, a face devoid of makeup washed away by tears and rain, and a shining scalp where golden tresses used to be. Emily sat down in front of her huge mirror, trying to process the image in front of her. She had gone from having the longest, thickest, most princess-like hair anyone had ever seen on Earth to being barren of locks in one go.

There was no way she could go to the mid-semester soiree looking like this, and there was no wig in the world that could come close to replicating her former glory. She sat there for a minute, unmoving, as she tried to estimate in her head how long she had to remain in solitude, at least until she had enough hair to be accepted in society, or how long it would take for all her hair to grow back. . .

. . .but that’s just it, she thought. Her hair would grow back, but it would never be the impenetrable curtain that it was this morning. She closed her eyes as she reminisced about that point in her day, when she was caressing her ravishing mane of fluffy, golden silk on both sides of her head with her hairbrush.

The hundreds of bristles traveling down all four feet of her hair was like music to Emily, while the lengths comfortably caressed her body and cheeks on either side, and the fragrance of her favorite strawberry shampoo surrounded her in an invisible cloud. She set her brush down and ran her hands through the entire length of her tresses covering her sides like a cloak, raising it above her shoulders and slowly letting it slip back down to her sides in a beautiful fall. She then pushed it over her shoulders and onto her back, where it would give her a soft, comforting weight that would get her through the demands of the day. . .

But her reverie was broken when she opened her eyes upon feeling not her luscious mane of hair. . .but the pale skin on her rubbery, cold scalp. The sensation brought such a blow to Emily, that all she could do was bury her face in her arms, weep for her loss, and try to cope with her state of being.

Laura was right, just as her mother was all those years ago. She had done so much to the point of not taking care of herself, and now she had lost her most prized possession. From now until she had hair again, Emily would remember this horrible day and take caution the next time she felt an air of hubris. The dream she had this morning wasn’t just a dream, it was a premonition for the tragedy ahead. She was robbed of her pride and joy, and naked to the world. She was Rapunzel no more. 

To be continued. . .?

————————

Author’s Note: Hello! This was my first attempt at writing one of these after over 15 years as a reader. I’ll admit the ending is a downer, but I think I did my best for what it is. Rest assured the next story I have in mind will be much happier. Hope you enjoyed this all the same!

+54