Jan 9th – Swept away by the wind, her hair looked a mess.

12.30-12.40

In contrast, her head looked amazing.

If she was wearing a wig, it would have been more understandable. Not strictly her hair, of course, but a close approximation of it, and that’s how she probably would have seen it, her hair, if she had been wearing a wig. But she wasn’t. It was her hair.

A sudden gust of wind. One of those that comes from nowhere, and reminds you that nature is a force, not to be reckoned with, but to really not bother struggling against at all. Nature, after all, does what it wants. It’s in its nature.

It was a bright day. One of those days that makes you wish you had some sunglasses somewhere, tucked away, just in case. Not sunny, as such, but bright, a white bright through high clouds, and warm enough to make the coat you thought you should wear unnecessary. Her coat was over her arm when the gust came, and she clamped it to her side to keep it there. Which is where it stayed.

The same, however, cannot be said for her hair.

Unprecedented, they called it.

The wind came, from behind, blowing her auburn hair, worn long, around the sides of her face. She was more concerned about her coat. And then, painlessly, almost in slow motion, her hair was gone.

A simple fact. Her hair was blown away.

All of it, gone, in one gust, one flutter. One second it was where it had always been, on top of her head, the next it was caught on the wind and was alive, twisting, tumbling, growing wings. Twenty, thirty, fifty yards away, rising and falling to the call of the air, spreading and compacting like the tentacles of a terrible jellyfish.

She put her hand to her head, forgetting all about the coat she had instinctively saved, letting it fall to the ground. Her scalp was cool and smooth to the touch. She tried to scream, but in that instant it was as if the wind had stolen her voice as well, leaving her soundless.

She could still see her hair at the edge of the field she had been crossing, caught up in a barbed wire fence, there to keep the summer sheep in. She ran towards it, her coat still lying where it had fallen, one arm outstretched.

She wanted it back, her hair, tried to pull it from the wire it was tangled around. Swept away by the wind, her hair looked a mess.

Inspired by a prompt from here

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3 thoughts on “Jan 9th – Swept away by the wind, her hair looked a mess.

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