Hair

Her hair was curly and surely coated with some product that made it not absorb water. We’d climbed up behind a waterfall and back down again. Her curly hair was covered with beads of water. Every strand had a coating of droplets that caught the sun. It looked like a halo and she was the angel beside me.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “hair.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “Hair”

  1. It had turned from a silky brown to a steel grey, but it still flowed like water through my hands. It was long like she had always loved to wear it and it still looked magnificent. I reached for the only loose strand on her perfect mane and gently tucked it behind her ear.

  2. Carmen took off the tie that was holding her curly, dark brown hair captive being her head. She was getting ready to take a long ride in her Mustang convertible for it was beautiful day for such a venture. She had always loved how the wind played wildly with her mane. It was such a liberating feeling, and she always reveled in it.

    As she was getting ready to exit the driveway, a man in a black Harley cruised by and in an instant their eyes met. Without thinking, Carmen put the car in gear and started to follow him.

  3. “Here, and there, and there. ”
    “You again left a strand , here, here.’
    Weaving a braid out of the meagre hairs of the old lady, was tough. Hearing her constant directions and remonstrations was tougher still.
    Poor girl did the hair twice in a day, without a murmur. God bless her.
    These are the moments , I thank God for having given me , two wonderful daughters, instead of loutish sons , who are more likely to break your sofas, china and hearts , in that order.

  4. “you shampooed again” my father chided me . according to him washing your hair twice a week was a bad thing.
    “And you don’t even oil it” he added miserably.
    i don’t know why he got so upset. Well!,Yes!! it was cold but i wanna do what i want to do
    . I never listen to him anyway.
    but seeing him like that made me sad too.
    Oh god! why do i love my father so much.

  5. “Are you hair flirting?” He said as he sipped on his glass of whisky. He gazed at me long enough to give me butterflies. His eyes were big and deep; full of lust. I twirled my brown tendrils and took another puff of shisha. “No, not at all,” I said grinning mischievously. I had used a curling wand to further define my already kinky locks. “Well, it’s beautiful. I want to burry my face in it… among other things.” I stopped and quickly took a sip of my libation to cool any burning sensation evident on my face. Again, he made me blush. He was good at that. “It’s just hair,” I said with a nervous giggle. “Yah, but it’s yours,” he said, still maintaining his fixed longing.

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