Rapunzel’s saved her from an enchanted prison. Sampson’s gave him unparalleled strength. Medusa’s was nearly as deadly as her eyes, and in Pope’s mock-epic, Belinda’s drives the Baron to distraction.
Tell a story about a “hairy” situation.
- Imagine a comedy of errors between a novice hairdresser and their demanding client.
- A mystery in which a lock provides the only clue … or a portal to another time on another planet on which everyone is bald.
- How might things change if it were animal hair or peach fuzz or electrified?
- If sprouted from a museum statue that suddenly came to life?
- If you gave Medusa’s hair to Belinda or turned Sampson and the Baron into roommates?
- Maybe plop one or more of them into a completely different genre or setting?
- You may even have a real-life hair horror story–Now give it to a character who is your complete opposite.
The possibilities are as numerous as … the hairs on a human head.
Michele E. Reisinger
Michele is a writer and educator living in Bucks County, PA, with her family and never enough books. Her short fiction has appeared in Across the Margin, Stories That Need to be Told, Sunspot Literary Journal, Dreamers Creative Writing, and others. Find her online at mereisinger.com.
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16 thoughts on “Day 27- A Hairy Situation by Michele E. Reisinger”
When I wrote this prompt, I had an idea in mind for one of my linked stories. I’m still planning to write that one, but I ended up using it for a brand-new piece involving a hydra-like creature.
Thank you again for the various options you provided us. Because of the many options, writing story didn’t prove to be a chore anymore. I really enjoyed writing mine on the last option. Had I managed the time, I would have surely written on a couple of other options.
Stay safe and blessed. Best wishes.
Rapunzel had had enough. She stared into the mirror as she picked leaves and bits of twigs out of her long, blond hair. It fell in a tangled mess around her feet. She would spend every morning going on a walk through the forest and she would spend every afternoon picking out the dirt her hair had collected on her walk.
She was growing tired of it. It had started to feel like a weight that would hold her down every time she attempted a task. And she had tried everything to prevent it from getting dirty. If she tied it up in an elastic band, she would hear a snap sound as it popped off her head within minutes. If she carried it in her arms, her arms would soon grow weary from exhaustion. Nothing worked.
Rapunzel dropped her hair the floor and sighed. Her hands were starting to cramp from this tedious task. She spotted something shiny from the corner of her eye. The scissors that she used to sew gleamed at her from a nearby shelf.
Everyone thought her hair was her most attractive quality. When she visited the town, people would gasp and squeal over the golden wave that ran down her back. Her mother would spend every night helping her brush it. Her husband would run his fingers through it whenever he saw her. Rapunzel thought her hair made her special. She feared that if she lost it, no one would give her a second look.
She picked up the scissors. It took her an hour to cut through all her thick hair. When she was done, the golden strands laid in heaps around the room.
Rapunzel stared in the mirror. Her hair came to a rest on her shoulders. She looked different. She looked pretty. And for the first time, she felt free.
I wrote a creepy 900-word story about a doll whose hair grows. One day it gets caught in a fan. It’s called “A Bad Hair Day.”
I had a doll like that when I was a kid. You pulled her hair to lengthen it, then pushed a button to shorten it. Creepy indeed! Always made me queasy thinking of all that hair being swallowed, then vomited ad infinitum.
My Beautiful Chrissy doll’s hair came out of a hole in the top of her head. To retract it, you pressed her belly button. Her hair was auburn, and shiny.
I wrote about a woman whose gold bracelet was stolen from above her sink when she did the dishes at a party. She knew the likely perpetrator, managed to steal her gold bracelet back, but the thief followed her. She outruns him, carrying the bracelet close to her heart. It was an heirloom handed down from her mother. She wants to cross a road that is barricaded off. A marathon is underway, and having to relieve herself she goes into a porta potty. When she wants to leave, she is trapped. The spring from a door came undone and she tries and tries to untangle herself. She is safe and trapped at the same time. Eventually, she manages to get out without losing pieces of her scalp…She has gone for gold, and found something precious.
What a fun take on the prompt!
I wrote 382 words about two sisters. One has beautiful, long blond hair, the other dark brown hair. The one with brown hair goes to her sister’s room in the middle of the night, convinced she is doing her a favor by cutting the long blond hair. Things don’t turn out as planned, and she comes out of her sister’s room with her hair cut off.
I don’t think a lot about hair. But I figured I could write my daily drabble around the theme, at least, because I can write a hundred words about anything. My first thought was to write in the voice of a father who disapproves of his daughter’s choice of hair style/ colors. But after a few sentences, the tone had gotten kind of sensual, and the story was going in a very different direction than I intended. So I forgot about the father/daughter angle, and instead went with May/December romance.
I do that sometimes too, think I’m writing about one thing and the story takes me in a completely unexpected direction. I’m usually better off if I don’t fight it but see where the story needs to head.
I wrote a 211 word story about Lee cutting their hair for the first time outside of their family’s control. And how it’s their first step in settling into their identity. Not exactly a real-life situation, but I definitely threw my own feelings into this one.
This is such a significant milestone, yes! Not only settling into their identity, but claiming it. So powerful.
Each of the various options for the prompt given today, was a beauty. I noted them down and will write stories based on them in due course of them. While writing about the one in which Samson and the Baron were to turn into roommates, would have been the most challenging; writing a story of hair sprouting on the head of a statue coming alive, would have been no less interesting, in my humble opinion.
Yet, I chose the last option – a real-life hairy take. I do sincerely hope that my story meets with your approval.
The Hairy Kshir!
Oindrila was the most beautiful girl that Vikas had the good fortune of ever setting his eyes on. Slim, over 5’5″, with jet black, wavy hair that fell down to her waist, she had the face that would make many go down on their knees to proclaim their love for her. ( Imagine a ‘Sweet Helen’ make me immortal with a kiss from your lips’ kind of scenario). She was an educated and working girl as well. It was no wonder therefore, that he fell for her face and grace the first time he paid a visit to her house with a marriage proposal.
After sometime when he accompanied her to the adjacent room at his mother’s request, ‘to get to know one another better’, Vikas liked her more. She was completely unlike the modern girls. Soft-spoken, intelligent and anything but bashful, she answered every question that he asked her with apparent honesty.
“Don’t mind if I’m being too personal here – How come a girl as attractive as you are, is still single? Isn’t it the age for boy friend? ”
She looked at his face for a minute before shaking his head.
“Do you really want me to believe it? ”
“The onus of running the family fell on my shoulders once Ma breathed her last. I was 17 then. After college and attending the tuition classes, I had very little time for a boyfriend or anything like that….?”
She never withdrew her eyes from his face while answering the question.
“Anyway, I think I’m the only one bombarding you with the questions so far. Do you wanna ask me anything?” Vikas asked in the end.
She kept looking at him for a minute longer before picking the hair up out of her cup.
“Sorry. I hope you don’t mind.” She explained while throwing the hair away and casting an inquisitive look at his direction.
Vikas wanted to say that he had minded her act of continuing to sip from the same cup but changed his mind at the last moment.
Oindrila picked up both the cups from the tea-table before enquering politely :
“Shall we go in then? They all must be waiting for us.”
Their marriage happened within a month. The newly-wed couple hit it up from day one itself so lost in one another they were. Vikas loved his wife but for her total lack of abhorrence for anything hairy.
Vikas used to make fun of this trait in Oindrila often and never let go of an opportunity to tell her to get rid of it when there was still time. But being the decent girl that she was, all Oindrila did in response was to keep mum and break into a smile.
Now, from childhood itself Vikas hated hairs in his soup, in the curries, even in his food or rotis. Being the only child, there were days when he would simply throw away his dish if he found a hair in any of the dishes. His obsession with hairs amounted to some kind of abnormality.
His abhorrence was not displayed during the meal times alone. While using the toilet; brushing his teeth; just to give some examples, if he noticed a hair anywhere in the commode or stuck amongst the bristles of the brush, he would go mad! So, when he noticed Oindri, plucking the hair nonchalantly out of the bowl or out of her mouth at times, he couldn’t believe it! Even love-making turned out to be problematic at times because of his abhorrence and Oindri’s total lack of it for hairs or anything hairy!
That Sunday afternoon, Vikash invited his Boss and inlaws ( Oindrila’s Father and brother) to dinner. His promotion was almost confirmed and Oindri couldn’t visit her father and younger brother for some time. Whatever, Vikas was in a mood to celebrate.
After a pleasant evening, while He, Shouvik Babu, his father-in-law, and The Boss were watching one of the play-offs of the IPL involving RCB and LSG, Oindri’s brother craned his neck in at the door and wanted to know if they would like their dinner served in the Living Room itself.
Before Vikas or Shouvik Babu could open their mouths, The Boss spoke out :
“Madam Oindrila has been working very hard since we turned up. I think it’ll be a good idea to have all of us dining together.” He looked at the other two before adding, “Of course, if it is okay with her and the others.”
So, all five of them were seated around the spacious, oval-shaped table on which the different items were kept in shining China crockery. The Boss was seated at the head left. Shouvik Babu with his son were made to sit on one side while Vikas and Oindrila got seated opposite. Oindrila, opposite her brother, happened to be sitting farthest from The Boss.
“Madam, why don’t you open a restaurant or something? If you don’t mind my telling you, I think you’re wasting your talent at ONGC.” The Boss putting the mutton piece of the Biriyani into his mouth, remarked jovially.
As Vikas broke into a rapturous laughter, Oindrila blushed. There were ice-creams and kshir yet to be served.
When Shouvik Babu was enlightening The Boss how Oindrila learnt cooking from her late mother, Vikas turned his head in time to find Oindri removing the lid of the pot containing the kshir. Both of them were greeted with the sight of horrible hairs tied in a tiny circle at the top. Oindri quickly ran her eyes from Vikas to the rest – who all were still involved in the lively discussion of Oindrila’s prospect as the owner of a restaurant – before doing the unthinkable!
Unknown to the three, she put the kshir in her china bowl first. Plop did the hairy kshir go down to the bottom! Before Vikas could utter anything or the others could notice anything amiss, Oindrila was spooning small chunks of the kshir into her mouth and devouring them first.
“I’ve had my fill, Madam. I haven’t had anything like this in a while.” The Boss running his hand over his bulging stomach in a typical Bengali style, exclaimed self-contentedly.
“There are kshir and ice-cream still. But if you don’t like anything sweet, let me not force you.” Oindrila replied, having put the last the hairy-mount of the kshir in her mouth fast!
“What did you say, there is kshir? My favourite! I won’t miss such a delicacy even if I’m full and in Hell. Please let me have a spoonful.”
While Oindri, trying to avoid her husband’s eyes, was busy pouring the kshir in a bowl, Vikas was too stunned even to react!
I’m so glad you liked the prompt! I enjoyed reading your take on it 🙂