Her brown hair use to glisten in the sun light, long, thick and luxurious, like chocolate. It was her best feature, she use to spend an hour every night just brushing it. I remember how soft it felt when I would plat it, sat together in the living room with bobbles and clips all around us.
"Will it ever grow back?" She asked our mother, who sat by her side. She was silent too scared to answer incase the tears escaped.
"Of course it will" I told her as I stroked her little hand, she was still and silent as she looked at me. Slowly she reached up to run her fingers through my hair, a sad smile on her face. "Your hair is so pretty Tory" she told me.
YOU ARE READING
A collection of Short stories
Short Story***Longer pieces at the end (word count in brackets) **** So over the last three years I've been at University completing a Creative writing degree. Over this time I have wrote a lot of short pieces of work (as exercises as well as just for fun) T...
