Gloom

Looking in the mirror. Running, pulling my hands through my hair. Twirling my golden locks around my fingers. The soft tangles wrap themselves around my shoulders like a cape. I walk outside and the strands stir in the breeze, tickling my nose. They shine in the sun and I forget the broken, brittle mess they once were. I feel secure under my sandy tresses and let the sun warm my cheeks as I turn my face to the glinting sky.

But I trip over my feet, stumbling to my knees as the golden wisps darken my vision and hang on either side of my cheeks like curtains, robbing me of the sun. I hear laughter. A cold cackle that reverberates around me and, suddenly, instead of hands I picture hair clippers running, pulling their shiny, metallic teeth through my hair. The teeth mow through my hair with such a ravenous greed and gleefully spit it on the floor.

The teeth pulse against my skull, ringing between my ears like a swarm of flies. I yank the clippers through my hair to rid myself of the hum, the bites, but no matter how hard I press against my scalp the flies are still there. They take my notions and pervert them into foul corpses that rattle with the rasps of doubt and insecurity.

As the last of my hair flutters to the ground I peer down at my hands but I see no clippers. My hands are covered in clumps of hair and under my fingernails are chunks of bloody scalp. I am hit with the revolting revelation of what I have done and feel a ball of shame work itself into my throat, gagging me.

I burst back inside but this time I do not look into the mirror. I stagger past it and shed my clothes before stepping into the shower. I yank on the handle and close my eyes as the scalding water assaults my head. My scalp ignites with searing pain and I run my hands over the prickly remnants of my hair. I sink into a curled ball on the shower floor and huddle under the burning droplets until the water turns to ice.

Drowsy, I retreat to the comforts of my bed and dive deep under the covers into the gloom where She greets me like an old friend. My body finds a familiar rut and settles into it comfortably as the darkness folds around me fondly and whispers Her deep rumbles into my ears, silencing the flies. Her hands inch up my throat and coil around my face as I slowly fade into a stupor.

Eventually, I feel her cold tendrils being washed from my eyes and an array of golden hues dance across my eyelids and stir me from sleep. I gingerly blink away the gloom and am greeted by the warmth of the sky as it pushes itself through my windows and splashes onto my face and shoulders, embracing me. Sitting up, I swing my legs out from under the blankets and over the side of the bed. The fresh air fills my lungs and I raise my hands to my scalp. My fingers hesitantly graze through the new fuzz that has encompassed my skull. Breathing deep, I hoist my body out of the bed and rest securely upon my two feet before turning to the mirror. I see my face; my eyes; my hair. And I smile.