Landed Wings - By Skylhur Tranqille Page 0,46

how well it’ll come out on my black hair though. I open the package and follow the instructions. About thirty minutes later, my hair is wrapped up and cooking inside a plastic bag. I sit on the couch and turn on the TV. There’s nothing on that really interests me. America’s Next Winged Model is on, and the girls are taking photo shoots while flying. Typical. The closer we, I get to tomorrow, the more nervous I feel. There’s the hair, the makeup, the…oh man. I don’t have a dress. I didn’t bring anything here that I could wear to the performance. Maybe I can put together something that will work. I go into my room, into the closet and see something wrapped in plastic. It’s a long white dress. Of course, I should have known. Mocha thinks of everything. It is a long, floor length dress made out of the

viscose. I put it on, and it is gorgeous. The material hugs my body, but flairs out slightly at the feet. It is an off-the shoulder (both shoulders) long split sleeve dress. The neckline is straight, leaving my collarbones exposed. The sleeves are tight at my wrists. There is a gold headband, Old World style with many bands, and gold high heeled sandals. The dress will hide how high my heels are, making it difficult to guess my height - perfect. The whole ensemble is beautiful and it makes me a tiny bit less mad at Mocha, but only a tiny bit. I go back and sit on the couch, but when I look at the clock, I realize that it is time to wash out my hair. I go into the bathroom turning on the shower water. I wait until it gets hot, then remove my clothes and step in. I turn around so that the water rushes pleasantly over my wings. I open them behind me slightly so that the skin behind can get clean too. I use my favorite soap, Pomegranate Passion, and wash all over. Finally, I take the plastic bag off, and let my hair fall free. I have really long hair. It falls all the way to my waist. I can’t see it, but I turn around and let the water run through it. I do this until the water stops running red and runs clear. I try not to look at it before it clears, because it looks like I am bleeding out. I wash my hair with shampoo, also Pomegranate Passion, and condition. When I step out, I gently rub the mirror with my hand to clear the fog so that I can see my hair. I am shocked by what I see in the mirror. My hair did turn red, but not fire-engine. It’s more of a carrot like color with weird streaks of brown, and a few black. It looks like calico hair, except red and not blond. It looks pretty cool actually. It looks weird with my face though. Really full red lips, angular cheekbones, and dark green eyes, compliments of Mocha. All this with calico hair. It’ll take some getting used to – I don’t even recognize myself. I wrap the towel around myself and lay on the couch. My hair will dry straight. Mocha is still not back. I wish I had a phone so I could call him. It’s ridiculous and stupid that he is always talking about me leaving, and he’s gone and left me for practically two days. I put the orange pillow on the couch under my head, and put my arm under that. I always feel sleepy after taking a shower. The TV is still on, and some kind of Air Ball Game is playing. I turn the volume down and close my eyes. Before I know it, I’m asleep.

A hand is touching my hair. I grin sleepily and turn over.

“I just wanted to give you this.”

He hands me a pair of gold earrings dripping with small

medallions.

“I couldn’t find any like these when I got the dress so…you have seen the dress right?”

I don’t take the earrings from him.

“Yes, I have, and it’s beautiful. But you know what’s not

beautiful? You leaving and not telling me where you were

going to be. You going and abandoning me for almost two days. Leaving me some vague note. Doing exactly what you accused me of.”

I’m yelling in his face, but I recognize that behind my anger, all I want to do is cry and kiss his