The Cold Scissors of Cutting Time
Who’s next?
If I hide long enough, they’ll forget about cutting my hair, Misty thought.
She hated the way the cold scissors felt on the back of her neck.
She hated the tickling feeling when they clipped near her ears, fearing that the scissors would slip and accidentally cut her. She could hear the boys whimpering after taking their turn in the cutting chair.
Misty shivered on the cold tile floor of the kitchen. She peeped out from under the table cloth and saw wisps of hair still drifting gently down. Snip, snip.
An arm reached down and pulled her out from under the kitchen table.
“Haven’t forgotten you, young ‘un. Get up in the chair, girl. It’s your turn now.”
My mother used to get out her scissors every couple of months and give all five of us girls haircuts. It was usually the ‘bowl’ cut with goofy bangs — hey, I still have school photos up until I was 12 or so that prove it! I still remember the cold scissors and the worry that I was going to come away with only one ear. Oh, completely accidental, I’m sure.
Thank you to Christine Graves for the Word-A-Day Prompt! Today’s word is ‘young’.
And thank you to all the hard-working editors at Promptly Written❤️
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