Saturday, March 7, 2015

WEWRIWA Submission 3-7-15

“Urghh, so itchy.” She suddenly unsheathed a combat knife from her belt. “God damned rotten polluted air and this disgusting city dryness.”

She muttered words in her native voice, grabbing her braid and slinging it over her shoulder. She began to reminisce about the jungles of her home world, sighing loudly as she held the hair taught.
She sliced through the plait, four inches of shredded dead ends falling to the floor.

She began to undo the rest of the braid, ruffling her hair out of its bindings and letting the remainder cascade over her shoulders. She walked over to the counter and she pulled out a pair of scissors, muttering incoherently as she clawed through her head with her other hand.


Well, how else you going to groom yourself in the slums of the earth?

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