Four high school students encounter an evil spirit. Thoroughly cliched and hopelessly derivative.
Vanessa settled under the big blow-dryer at the hair salon and opened her magazine. She was getting a brand new hairstyle to mark a new era of her life. The she would get her nails painted and go shopping to reward herself for terrorizing Chad and the other two.
She lowered the magazine and looked around the salon at the other patrons. She was only putting off what she was actually supposed to be doing, which was taking something away from Mikhail to sacrifice to the spirit. The rodent, the scholarship… She still had no clue and time was short.
The hairdresser led her over to the sink to condition her hair. Maybe the scalp massage would warm up her brain.
She tried to take her mind off of it while her hair was cut and styled. The hairdresser spun the chair around so Vanessa could see how she looked.
“Oh, Mees Vanessa, look how pretty,” she cooed as she fluffed Vanessa’s hair and let it fall.
Vanessa threw the woman’s arm away and raked her fingers through her hair. “I hate it! It looks orange! I didn’t ask for orange stripes!”
The hairdresser stepped back. “But Mees, it’s not orange, it’s so blonde and pretty—”
She jumped out of the seat and looked closely into the mirror. “It’s orange, you moron!” She tore off the cape and shoved it at the hairdresser. “I’m not paying you for orange hair! I’m going somewhere else!” She pushed past the woman and stomped across the salon.
“Mees! You cannot not pay! Come back!”
Vanessa stopped with her hand on the door and smiled with her back to the woman. She turned around. “I’m sorry, Brenda, you’re right. I should pay you.” She slowly walked back to Brenda, searching through her purse for something.
“Here you go, Brenda. Here’s one hundred dollars. That should cover the tip, too.”
“Oh, Mees Vanessa,” Brenda said, holding up the cash and smiling until her eyes crinkled up. “You’re so nice, Mees.”
“Well, thanks so much. Sorry I got upset. It doesn’t look at orange at all.” A long, closed smile stretched across her face. She waggled her fingers goodbye and left.
(Since we won’t see Brenda again in this story, the author will let you know that all her hair fell out that night.)
She skipped along the city street clicking her high heels. It was late afternoon when she headed home from her downtown shopping trip, heavily loaded with shopping bags of shoes and clothes. On her way to the car, she passed a ballpark. Through the chain-link fence, she glanced over at the bleachers—she recalled a fond memory underneath them. Her eye was caught by the solitary person sitting there.
“Well, isn’t this interesting,” she said under her breath. The greasy black hair gave away the hunched-over figure—it was Mikhail.
She sidled over to the gate and pushed it open quietly. She shaded her eyes from the deep yellow sunlight. What an opportunity.
“Hey!” she called as she approached him. “Whatcha doing here by yourself?”
He lifted his head enough to see who it was and dropped it onto his knees again.
She climbed up one bleacher above him. “How come you’re by yourself? Where’s your friend?”
He rubbed the back of his neck and said nothing.
“Oh, wasn’t she feeling okay? I heard she wasn’t feeling good. Is that why she missed class?”
He stood up. “You know what, Vanessa? You know exactly what you’re doing. I don’t know how you’re doing it, or why you’re doing it. But you won’t get anywhere.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” She stretched out her legs and let one of her shoes dangle around. “I think I’m getting pretty far. Except there’s just one issue.”
“Oh?”
She twisted a lock of hair and pressed it to her lips before she spoke. “You. I just can’t figure you out.”
He crossed his arms, and tilted his head to direct a smirk right back at her. “There’s nothing to figure out about me. But I figured you out.”
“Oh, you did?” She leaned back and smiled while she twirled the shoe around on her toe.
“Yeah, I did. You’re a bitch.”
He grabbed the loose shoe and threw it as far as he could across the field.
To be continued… when I… have time to look at it on my day off… tomorrow.
We’re in shitty-first-draft-seat-of-the-pants-worked-all-weekend-and-today-and-doing-the-best-I-can-mode. I had too much supervision at work today to even attempt to get anything done. My boss had knee surgery a couple weeks ago which kept her in her office away from me. But now she’s moving around again. I’m posting this on 9/20 in my time zone and that’s all I care about.
Who the Hell Knows? 
For a first draft it’s great. I always end up rewriting 90% of my stuff
LikeLiked by 2 people
At least you rewrite it. I usually just pretend the whole thing never happened.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Rewriting is rewarding. I’ve spent a year on my last book and I’ll set off and do a second one and nobody will ever read it 🙄
LikeLiked by 1 person
I will say that I do enjoy editing when I find myself making discoveries. What kind of books do you write?
LikeLike
This one’s an suspense
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well that sounds fun 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
An ever evolving cast.
LikeLiked by 2 people
This from a guy who names 16 people in an 800 word short story?
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’ll be going for 32 in the next one. Don’t worry, I’ precede it with a cast members list, and how to property pronounce their names.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I have an early work like that, can’t tell the players without a program. I’m reading an indie that’s the same way. Three what could be good stories stuffed into one that’s too long, boring, and confusing as fuck.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Which of my stories have too many people in them? Each recent one has like 3 or 4 max. I naturally try to limit the person count, my dementia is wicked these days.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Write one with thirty-two. I dare you.
LikeLike
Go fish. Hint – Smelly bones. Everybody who shows gets named. It was like name drop hopscotch.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Oh, hell, that was small town USuvA, where everybody deserves to be heard and mentioned. And that was four names. three of em full.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Seemed like the Needles, CA phone book no longer than the scene was.
LikeLiked by 2 people
And wherever the loose shoe falls, no one knows
To be continued the saying goes…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Does George know you stole his line?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Which he stole from Norman Newman.
LikeLike
Is that like how Joe Zawinal invented hip hop?
LikeLike
She’s still looking for it.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Glad to hear that. 👠💩
You never know where it might land.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was cleaner than yesterday, which I can’t say of myself. It’s interesting to see how many similar bad habits us sepsceners have. They’re to the point that they jump out of my work like rabid chihuahuas. However, I think in this instance finishing is winning. Then we go clam digging.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I forgot yesterday’s already. Scary. I agree with everything you say here. Finishing is indeed winning. Worry about the bad stuff later.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Fix it in the mix. There needs to be something like autotune for writing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
But it’d all sound the same.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What made me laugh..
“.The hairdresser led her over to the sink to condition her hair. Maybe the scalp massage would warm up her brain….” this really made me laugh.
Your first draft was clean says I who us no expert. The point is getting the words and story out. You polish later. But it is pretty good now.
Why ? .. ” (Since we won’t see Brenda again in this story, the author will let you know that all her hair fell out that night.)…”? Why did her hair fall out was it revenge 🤔 how unkind.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m glad you got a laugh out of that. Yes, she put a curse on poor Brenda as revenge. Vanessa is most unkind.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Warm her brain…lol
LikeLiked by 1 person