Mihawk Hair Novels & Stories

The towels were as fluffy as she remembered, and it only hurt a couple of spots to dry. She was still tender from his possession, but she could move around freely Mia brushed her hair, planning to leave it down, but paused in the act of smoothing the dark strands over her cheeks. Why should she hide what he had done to her? He was the one who should feel shame. Defiantly, she gathered the locks and smoothed them into a ponytail, secured with a simple black hair elastic she found in an unopened package in the drawer. In the bedroom, she took the most comfortable underwear she could

She tucked her hair neatly behind her ears. "You are trespassing on a cool and quiet place as this, bozos" Mia spat. A kick came her way with her stopping it with her hand. She yanked the blonde's leg and twisted it, flipping him to the tree where his head smashed oozing blood. "Blonde is down. Next is you brown" She was using their hair color to address them. It was beneficiary at least. The first was blonde haired, the second brown haired and the third one, spiky red haired.

Now, however, in my left hand, I hold a hair just plucked from my own scalp: the mousy-brown shade of my current identity. In the right hand, I hold the hair which dropped from my hotel room door as I returned, and which on casual inspection, I had taken to be the one I slicked into place as I left the room earlier. But the right-hand hair is red. And now I look at it, I recognise that shade: a deep burnished copper-auburn that many women aspire to, but few have. But Mitch has it. Jenny too; Could it come from one of them? Probably, yes.

Zara had not been expecting to get attacked by her mother-in-law so she was defenceless for a moment but it did not last long as she jumped in and held the woman by the hair as well. The woman was older so she knew that tugging on her hair could lead to hair loss but she didn't mind at all; there was no way she would sit on her hands and allow them to bully her. She married Micah and this was her house as much as it was theirs.

MIKIAL’S STORY…. As the streetcar chugged to the end of the line, Pepper Windjue let out her tight braid. Her hair puffed out in a mass of curls that flowed down over her shoulders all the way down her back. It was Friday night and she didn’t have to look professional until Monday morning. The tension headache she’d been nursing all afternoon eased and the slight wind fluffed her long, silver white curls.

But now what do I do with my hair? “You leave it down in those waves,” Mia answers intuitively. She leans on the closet doorjamb as I play with my hair. “The humidity is doing wonders for your wavy hair and it’s so beautiful down. Please wear it down.” She begs walking up to me and offering me an approving nod. “Now just a little eyeliner and mascara?” I offer and she lights up. “Oh yes, yes indeed.” Mia pushes off the doorjamb excitedly and runs to grab her supplies.