“Girl! Your hair is luscious looking. I just want to dive in it,” Lily said. Dani batted her long, black lashes and blushed.
“You can look all you want, but don’t dive in,” Dani said, “or you’ll knock my pins loose and my beautiful hair will end up all over the floor.”
“It don’t feel like a wig,” Lily said, rubbing a frond of the hair between her fingertips.
“It’s antique. I got it from an auction. It’s made of real human hair.”
“You can totally tell from the way it looks and feels. It’s like it’s alive.”
“It’s better than that. I don’t have to wash it but once a month and brushing it out is easy when it’s not on my head.”
Dani didn’t detail the entire care regimen for the wig because she knew it would sound odd to the uninitiated. It had come from the auction in a hinged wooden box that was almost like a small coffin. There had been instructions in a language she didn’t understand, but accompanying illustrations showed the wig being locked behind a thick wooden door and being provided with a bowl of water and a bowl of what appeared to be food. She supposed that it was just a gimmick from the original designer to highlight how lifelike the wig was. “With hair so lifelike, you’ll have to feed it,” was probably a tagline hidden among the mysterious symbols.
After Lily left and Dani ate, she started her evening ritual. She carefully removed all of the pins that kept the wig secured to the couple of inches that remained of her natural hair and secured it to a wooden wig stand. From its position on the countertop, the long black tresses almost reached the floor. Dani started with a wide-toothed wooden comb, then completed the job with a stiff-bristled brush. She could almost imagine that the hairpiece was purring by the time she was done.
She got out the two ceramic bowls that came with the wig and filled one with water and the other with kibble, but the bag of dog food was empty. It was just a ritual, so what would it matter if she waited until the next day? She carefully locked the door and retired to her room to sleep. She was beset with frightening dreams of being hunted and awoke breathless from a long chase through her imagination. Following her toilette, Dani returned to her dressing room to put on her wig.
It seemed more lustrous than ever in the morning light. She cleared away the water – significantly lower because of evaporation – and the food bowl. She almost dropped it when she looked inside, expecting to see the ceramic bottom, but saw that it was filled with bones instead. Small bones like those of a mouse or bird. A quick check revealed that the windows were all locked from the inside.
“Only kibble,” she told the wig, “No more meat. Remember what happened last time.”
