Hair
Linda Norman was thirteen and loved her lush blond hair. Her Mom’s razor felt strange scraping over her now bare chilly head. She wiped tears from her eyes with her fists. “All my hair,” she moaned. “All my hair.”
“Like I told you, dear,” her mom said and rinsed the razor in the bathroom sink. “I heard it on the radio this morning. They hide in your hair. That’s how they’ve been getting into houses.”
Linda knew that, of course; she’d heard it at school too. But knowledge didn’t make it any easier to take. “But my eyebrows!”
“All hair. Just be thankful you’re not me.”
Her mom dropped the razor into the sink and said, “There. All done.”
“Can we let the dog back in?” Linda needed some comfort from a friend that never hesitated to like her.
“Not yet. We need to burn this first.”
Together they swept up all her hair, being careful to find every single bit of it. They wrapped it all in newspaper and carried her former hair into the living room.
“You know, I always wondered how one got to Dad. I mean, he was so careful all the time. But with this hair thing…”
Her mom lit the gas in the fireplace and turned the flames up high. “One must have hitchhiked in his hair on the way to work with him. That was before we knew about their hair trick, of course. I hate the way they eat their way through to your brain through your eyes.”
“Please, Mom. I don’t want to think about Dad. I mean how he died.”
Her mom picked up the bundle of hair. “Sorry.”
Linda crossed her fingers and said, “I hope.”
Her mom tossed the newspaper bundle of hair onto the fire. There was a flash of the expected yellow, then just smoke and flames. Linda breathed out a sigh of relief.
Then they both saw it. A purple-blue flash. Then they both heard the terrible squeal, a squeal that went on for long seconds sounding like a broken dog whistle. And finally the smell. It hit them, like bad cheese or old fish. A dead smell.
Linda’s covered her mouth with both hands. She screamed. “One was in my hair! It could have killed me!” She began to shake.
Her mother hugged her. “It’s okay now,” she told Linda. “The danger is past.” Her mother stroked her head. Her mother stroked her bare head.
Linda stopped shaking. She pulled away and looked at her mom. “You’re bald too,” she said.
“I’m bald too.”
They hugged again. And this time they both laughed.
In the laundry room the dog barked, twice, then howled in pain.
