Novel & Cerita Short Hair Cutting Stories

******* I felt disgusted as such a memory crossed my mind, I hated my hair now, and I looked around for any sharp object till my eyes landed on a shaving razor on the sink. I picked it up from the sink and broke it till I got hold of the blade without thinking twice, I put the blade on my hair and cut it shoulder length. It wasn't neat, I will definitely make it neat later but now I don't want to see my hair long, I threw the hair and blade into the dustbin. "What did you do?" Leon asked the moment he saw me come out of the bathroom. "You look good with short hair but why did you cut it?" Kim dropped the sliced fruit on the table.

It was time to take control of my life and make a change. With a deep breath, I closed the mirror cabinet door and took a firm grip on the scissors. The cool metal felt reassuringly solid in my hand, like a lifeline to a new beginning. I raised the scissors high an inch above my shoulders, ready to take the plunge. My mind raced with doubts and uncertainty, but my body moved forward with conviction. With one swift motion, I brought the scissors down, cutting through the tangles of my long blonde hair. As the strands fell to the floor, I felt a sense of liberation wash over me. The weight of my hair, both physical and emotional, lifted from my shoulders. I stared at my reflection, watching as

With the pain in my soul I grabbed the comb and began to brush it while looking at my reflection. When I was in high school I had long hair, but keeping it that way involved a lot of problems so I got fed up and one day before going to college I showed Paola a magazine and gave her scissors to cut my hair. It was not a good idea because, she didn't cut it like the girl in the magazine but anyway I loved my new style and since then I have always kept my hair short. Never in my life did I like to comb my hair and that day I was doing it out of love for Isaac, she had to value me yes or yes.

He felt fast action was vital,so he tried to twist the cyclist's head back to it's proper position,BREAKING THE BIKER'S NECK! I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Emma. Cutting my hair wasn’t the same as losing an arm or a leg, but cutting it felt like I was losing an important part of my body. I knew it would grow back, that if I were lucky enough to live another year, it would be long again, just as beautiful as it was now. But seeing the scissors cutting through my locks and, right after, the clippers running over my scalp made me shed tears.

Grасе nоt knowing hоw it will bе ѕtуlеd or hоw short іt wіll bе сut. I mаdе Grасе sit реrfесtlу ѕtіll оn hеr ѕtооl. I combed hеr hаіr dоwn, cutting it реrfесtlу straight and blunt аll thе wау аrоund to the bоttоm of hеr ears. I соuld tеll that Sаmаnthа wаѕ gеttіng аrоuѕеd wаtсhіng mе. At thе еnd оf the cut, I turnеd thіngѕ оvеr to her. Sаm blow-dried Grасе'ѕ hаіr, fluffіng the ѕhоrt bоb аrоund hеr fасе, declaring; "Adаm, I lоvе this cut оn hеr! I саn't wait tо сurl іt оr ѕlісk іt bасk away frоm hеr fасе аnd tuсk it bеhіnd hеr ears! I wаnt you tо сut her hаіr on a реrmаnеnt bаѕіѕ."

All because of my weird appearance. I vividly remembered when I was in highschool. This fateful day, I was cornered by bullies, the typical bad girls who were disgusted by me. They had all come with scissors to cut short my hair. I gladly sat my butt down and allowed them do it because I had also grown tired of my white hair which was always haunting me. Minutes later, they all hastily ran away from me, calling me a freak. I had touched my hair and realized it had grown longer than before. This was definitely not normal!

Until now, strange short stories had only very short stories. But from volume two I intend to add stories that have 10 to 20 captains as well. These stories are not so long nor have so much visibility as a separated book. For this reason, I decided to move all then into strange short stories, that is already a storybook of different themes.

The face of it caught the light from the bare bulb. She pushed her hair back from her face. It was short now. Very short, cut close to her head in a way that changed the entire architecture of her features, the line of her jaw more visible, her neck longer, her eyes sitting differently in her face without the weight of longer hair around them. She had done it herself, in a bathroom three hours ago, with the scissors from the first aid kit she had used to dress her wounds. It had taken eleven minutes and she had not been precious about it. Hair was not the thing she was attached to.

– But she told me about when she had to cut her hair short and her mother kept saying it was fashionable among young French women, but it was just an excuse so that no one would know she had caught lice. I found that strange. Lisa never had lice. When she was fifteen, in an act of pure rebellion, she locked herself in her room and cut her hair. She had long black hair that went down to her waist and wanted to get a bob, but our mother forbade her. So she locked herself in her room and decided to cut her hair herself with school scissors. It was a disaster! My mother had to call a hairdresser, and the only solution the poor guy found was to give my sister a very short haircut, but it looked g