Slanted Hairline Novels & Stories

Putting on a white slack shirt-dress on his athletic sculpture, he ambled towards the reflector attached to the wall, he stared at his reflection. Nothing much had differed, except for his silver hair which had gotten longer. He lifted his hands and embarked on holding up his hair in a vague ponytail, a black-colored band materialized on his hand from nowhere as he bind his hair together, a loose strand of hair lying messily on his forehead. He sizzled and toiled on it.

I secure my black leather Apple Watch around my wrist, its sleek band wrapping snugly, a subtle nod to both functionality and fashion. My hair, a deep chestnut brown, is cropped close at the sides, adding a sharp contrast to the textured layers that crown the top of my head. Despite the deliberate styling, a few rebellious bangs persistently brush across my forehead, softening the angles of my face and adding a touch of youthful nonchalance to my otherwise meticulously assembled appearance.

Sloane stood in the doorway. She didn't speak. Didn't greet him. Just... stepped inside. She ran a sleepy hand through her hair, clearly meaning to tie it back, but for some reason, she hadn't. The blonde strands fell in a straight, loose cascade all the way down past her waist, brushing softly against her lower back as the sunlight trailed behind her.

"If it were me, I'd be inconsolable in my grief." "If it were you, we'd run the risk of exposing the world to the massive holes in your skull." "They're called ears, Dahlia," Callia rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out as she polished her pinky toe. "You have them too." "And yet, I seem to be the only one using them," Dahlia looked at me, sighing. "Ignore them, just see what you can do about fixing…this." "I can do an asymmetrical bob and then sheer the rest real low for the hair at the back. Like a soldier's undercut from the Steppes."

And then I see it. A streak of silver-white cutting through my golden locks like a slash of moonlight. My stomach clenches. This isn’t normal. I tilt my head, running my fingers over the strands as if touching them will somehow make them disappear. But they don’t. They stand out in stark contrast against the rest of my hair. A lump forms in my throat. I’ve never heard of this happening to a human before. Twenty-one-year-olds don’t just wake up with silver hair. It’s unnatural.

Framed by delicate lashes, her gaze holds a quiet power, inviting connection and understanding. High cheekbones, sculpted by ancestry, lend regality to her visage. The bridge of her nose, a slender arc, carries the echoes of her lineage. A full, expressive mouth, adorned with a natural gloss, reflects a symphony of emotions waiting to be shared with the world. Adorning her head is a crown of tightly coiled curls, each strand a celebration of individuality. The curls, like spring tendrils, frame her face with an unrivaled natural elegance. It's a testament to the versatility and beauty found in the embrace of her natural hair.

Her face was round with a little cleft in her chin that marks liked to tongue for some reason. Her chin didn’t look like an ass, but it had bothered her in her younger years, and made her a bit self-conscious. Her dark hair was straight and acted like a total bitch, refusing to do as it was told. It wouldn’t hold a curl, and more than once, she had chopped it off in a rage. But these days, older and wiser, she got better tips if it was long enough for her customers to grab onto.

Okay, got my brooch. Hair down or hair up? I had an oval face, sharp at the chin, soft around the cheeks. Hair down usually gave me the wild, mysterious look. Hair up? Elegance. I needed something in between, so I twisted it into a low knot and let a few strands fall loose. Not too polished. Not too undone. Just enough to say: I don’t care what the elders say, but I’m going to look flawless while they say it.

How are you feeling Tera ? " The question brought Tera back from her focus. Tera was combing her mother-in-law's hair very slowly for fear that the already thin hair would get thinner if not treated properly. Cancer made Mrs. Herlinda's hair very thin, even though Mrs. Herlinda had thick and fluffy hair. This was the first time Tera realized that her mother-in-law's hair had been thinning a lot over the past year. This middle-aged woman hid her hair loss by always tying her hair when she left the house or when she was around her children and grandchildren. If it weren't for the collapse, maybe even now Tera and Sebastian wouldn't have realized Mrs. Herlinda's real condition.

She doesn’t look strong at all, she is scrawny, and her limbs are out of proportion to the rest of her body, it gives her a gawky look. She has blonde hair, but it's more of a burnished gold colour. It's been plaited and wound in a bun at the back of her head, an unusual style, but it suits her. Her fringe is long and styled to stay out of her face, but otherwise moves freely, giving her a wind-swept, wild look.