Installment Two: The Forest Calls
The water roared out of the faucet, drowning out Sade’s thoughts as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. How many days had it been since she had seen the stag? Two? Three? Yet, she couldn’t expunge the memory from her mind. Often, she would gaze towards the thick forests surrounding her Aunt’s and Uncle’s quaint home, hoping she would see the silvery creature, but there was nothing except for the shiver of the leaves in the trees, and the loneliness in her heart.
She glared at her reflection. People had always told her that she had inherited her mother’s long black hair; her mother had worn it down to her hips, and Sade had followed suit. Her father, on the other hand, had electric-blonde hair. She used to ask him if he had been struck by lightening to get such bright her. From him, she had the same round face, and freckles; they were scattered across her nose. People always told her she was beautiful and had a unique appearance; her mother was Japanese-American and her father was Scottish. Her older brother Shaw, people had joked, looked like the male version of her. But, she didn’t care about all of that. All she saw when she looked at herself was them. But she was stuck here.
She held the scissors closer to her hair and hacked a massive slice off. A mischievous grin lit up her face. It was the first time that she had felt something other than grief in days. She kept slicing away at her raven hair until it was no longer hip length, but just slightly under her ears; she didn’t even recognize herself anymore. She looked like a boy, like the younger version of Shaw. The strands fell on the floor in great heaps. Hurriedly, she snatched them up, and in just her brother’s oversized t-shirt she walked outside holding here severed ebony hair.
The grass was cool and wet against her feet. She marched to the border of the forest and the cottage property, and, with animal-like ferocity, threw her strands of hair into the dark woods. The sky rumbled above like a wolf’s growl stuck in its throat and within seconds icy drops fell from the sky. A hand wrapped around Sade’s wrist forcing her to turn around.
“What are you doing? What have you done to your hair?” her Aunt cried, worry carved into her face as she tugged Sade back inside of the house.
From among the forest leaves, an ivory colored hand emerged; the skin was as white as bone. Thin, elegant fingers wrapped around the child’s dark hair and pulled it into the evergreen forest, disappearing.
Continue to White Stag Installation #3