Haircuts Revisited

Elyzabeth
By Tammy

 Foreword: I wanted to try something new with this one….

I woke up just before 9 o’clock that evening, it was late November and the nights were getting longer. I decided I wanted to go out night clubbing tonight, it had been quite a while since I’ve been out in New York City. I had just returned to Manhattan from a very long trip overseas and was recovering from the journey. I got up and took a shower. After my shower I started to get ready.

Tonight I was going to go out to the Batcave. This club is located a few blocks north-west of where I live in Greenwich Village. Batcave is a club in New York where the Goth culture hangs out in. I like the Goth culture, as it seems to combine a bit of my past life with my present life. I love the Industrial Music they play, and besides, there is nothing like losing yourself in a nightclub for a few hours.

I slid on a black camisole with some black pants and a pair of black boots. I checked myself out in the mirror. Almost Perfect I thought to myself.

My hair was really long and natural auburn in colour. Normally it has a lot of curls and volume, but it was still wet from my shower and sitting flat on my head. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and wondered what to do with my hair for the night. I thought about going over to Astor Place for a haircut, as it has been a while since I’ve done something like that. I twisted my hair up out of my face to see what I would look like without it. I smiled at my reflection and knew exactly what I was going to do.

I spent the next half hour applying make-up. I did an application worthy of the New York City’s Goth scene, lots of white powder and dark eyeliner. When I was ready to go I grabbed my purse and made my way over to Astor Place. The Shop closes at 10:30 pm so if I didn’t get going quickly I wasn’t going to make it in time.

I made my way into Washington Park. The Barbershop was on the other side of the park a few blocks east. It was a beautiful evening with a clear sky and a slight cool breeze. As I walked across the centre of the park towards the fountain there was a familiar face sitting on the bench.

“Elyzabeth .” He said and stood up as I approached.

“Hello Jaguar.” I said acknowledging his presence.

“When did you return?” he asked.

“A couple of days ago.”

“Do the others know you are back?” he asked and I nodded ‘no’ giving him a cold stare.

“Do you want me to let them know you have returned?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” I said and I turned away from him and continued through the park.

He took a seat back on the bench. I turned and looked back at him as I walked off. Jaguar and I go a long way back, and it has been a few years since we’ve seen each other last. I came out on the other end of the park at the northeast corner and onto Waverly Place. Broadway was just a couple of blocks east now. I made my way across Broadway and onto Astor Place. The shop was now visible from the corner.

I entered the shop, it was busy on a Thursday Night. People tend to come in for a last-minute haircut before a night out on the town, especially if they are having a bad hair day. People took notice of me when I entered the shop as my long red curly hair flowed over my shoulders and down my back and stood out over my black outfit and make-up. I took a seat in a waiting chair.

One of the barberette’s was finishing up with a female client. Her hair was cut into a very short a-symmetrical haircut. The barberette showed her the back of the haircut with the mirror and she was smiling in approval. She got up and paid and left the shop.

“Next” the barberette called out and I stood up and took a seat in her chair.

“So what will it be?” she asked as I sat down.

“Number one all over.” I told her in a very confident tone.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes, and don’t worry, It will grow back faster than you think.” I said.

“OK.” She said as she flung a cape over my shoulders and fastened it around my neck.

She reached for a giant pair of clippers turning them on. She came around behind me and held the clippers up over my head. She placed her left hand on the crown of my head tilting my head forward slightly, and placed the clippers on my forehead and held them their.

She took a glance over at me through the mirror and we made eye contact as to give me one last chance to back out. I gave her a light nod of approval and she pushed the clippers back over my head, the sound deepening is they went through my hair. I watched the first clump of my long red curls tumble over my shoulder and into my lap.

She came in for a second pass, and a third cleaning up most of the top of my head before tilting my head over to the side. The clippers entered at my temple now and all the way back, over my ear.

She did the same on my other side and tilted my head forward and finished it up in the back. I looked up at my reflection to see just a light shade of red stubble remaining on my scalp and I smiled with approval at the transformation.

She slid the cape off me and I got up out of the barber chair. I paid her for the haircut and walked out of the shop with my head held high and a huge smile on my face.

I stepped out into the cool November evening and the wind was blowing in my newly exposed scalp. I reached up and ran my fingers over my stubble. I loved the way it felt, such an indulgence I thought to myself.

I started walking up Broadway the 20 blocks north to West 30th Street where the club was located. It took a little while but it was a great chance to get acquainted with the city once again. I took my time and I made a few short stops along the way.

I arrived at the club at almost midnight. There was a bit of a queue so I approached the front of it to try to jump the line. The bouncer was standing there and watched as I approached, he was somebody knew who I didn’t recognize. He gave me the once over and I gave him a cold stare looking straight into his eyes. He took a step back to the side and nodded his head over towards the club to indicate I was allowed to enter. I walked straight past him without acknowledging him again.

The sound of Front 242 was blaring over the sound system, the song Headhunter. There were a few people dancing but mostly people were grabbing drinks at the bar.

I made my way across the dance floor and up towards the back of the club when I sensed his presence…

I had never seen him before, someone new. He was across the dance floor and I knew right from the moment that I saw him that he was my type. He was looking in my direction.

The song changed to Bigod 20’s version of Like A Prayer, I couldn’t help myself so I stepped out onto the dance floor. The lyrics where mesmerizing in his thick German accent:

Life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone.
I hear you call my name and it feels like…Home.

I completely lost myself in the music and danced like no one in the world was looking at me. Nothing else in the world matters in moments like this…

He came across the dance floor and closer towards me. It was like he was the hunter and I was his prey, only really, it would be the other way around as all I was doing was seducing him. We started to dance together and when the song finished he grabbed me by the waist.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked me.

“I don’t drink.” I said.

“While what do you do then?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” I told him as I slipped out of his grasp and took off across the dance floor.

He followed me up into the lounge and I took a seat on a couch. He took a seat next to me.

“I really like your, um, haircut.” He said as he sat down.

“Thanks.” I said. “I just cut it earlier before coming out tonight.”

“Really.” He said with some excitement. “How was it before?”

“Quite long.” I told him.

He reached up to feel it but pulled his hand away as soon as he touched it.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just find it really fascinating is all.”

“That’s OK,” I said. “I like the way it feels as well.”

“I’m a Hairstylist.” He told me.

“Really.” I said with some excitement… This was almost too perfect now, not only was he my type, he is also a hairstylist. I will definitely have to keep this one.

“I’m Elyzabeth .” I told him.

“Hi Elyzabeth , I’m Dunkan.” He said and I started to laugh. Freakin Posers I thought to myself.

“What was the name you mother gave you?” I asked him

“Oh,” he said nervously, “um, Jason.”

“Well Jason, it is very good to meet you.” I said and I bit my lower lip, he smiled a crooked smile.

I got up and went back to the dance floor for a while. Jason followed me out there. I wasn’t going to let some guy spoil my evening, even though I was starting to crave him a little bit. I danced for a while and Jason did as well. They were now playing Swamp Thing by the Chameleon UK, one of my favourites. Jason would leave occasionally and come back with some of his friends to introduce me. I could tell he was trying to show me off a little, too cute.

After a while I got bored so I grabbed Jason and pulled him close. “So where do you live Jason?” I asked him.

He smiled and put his arm around me. We made it to the front door and went outside to hail a Taxi. We got in the taxi and he told the driver his address. I knew this was an address up in Hell’s Kitchen somewhere, interesting.

We drove the few blocks north and the driver let us out in front of an older gothic style apartment building with the external wrought iron fire escapes, charming.

We walked up the four flights of stairs to his apartment. It was a very small bachelor pad with a crimson red paint scheme and posters of different bands on the wall, Ministry, Skinny Puppy, The Cure to name a few.

I took a seat on his futon and waited as he made drinks in his little kitchenette. He came back and sat beside me handing me some kind of mixed drink.

“I told you I don’t drink.” I said placing it off to the side.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He said rather embarrassed.

I grabbed him and threw him down on the futon and pressed my lips onto his rubbing myself up against him. We started sliding off our clothes as we kissed and rolled around on the futon. He pushed himself inside me and I let out a painful scream and started to tremble.

“Are you OK.” He asked in shock.

“I’ll be OK.” I said trembling. “Keep going.”

He paused for a moment. “Are you a…?” he asked.

I put my finger over his lips to silence him. “Technically, no,” I said. “It just takes a bit for me to get going.”

He started once again and I was loosening up enough now. I could tell he was getting close. His heart rate was increasing rapidly to almost where I wanted him to be. When he was just about to peek, I grabbed him by his hair and pulled his head up to look him straight into his eyes. Our eyes locked and as soon as he lost himself in my gaze…

I extended my fangs fully, pulled him tight towards me, and bit into his neck. I could feel his muscles loosening as his blood flowed directly into my mouth. I held him there for a moment as his muscles fell loose. I stopped as soon as I had just enough of his blood inside of me.

I rolled him over onto his back and left him there to sleep on his futon. It was going to be dawn soon and I had to get going. I opened the window and made my way out onto his fire escape closing his window behind me. I jumped over the fire escape railing and all the way down the four stories to the street below. His blood in me made me stronger than I have felt for a while now.

I quickly made my way south, back to Greenwich Village before dawn and went into my building to sleep…

---

I woke up the next evening feeling more alive then I have for a long time. Just as I thought, he was my type after all…AB Negative.

Don’t worry though. I didn’t kill him. He has far more worth to me alive then dead. It was just going to take a while for him to sleep it off, and wake up feeling like he has a really bad hangover.

I thought about the night before. A hairstylist. WOW. This reminds me of my Stan. I got up and shook my head. My long red hair was hanging over my shoulders so I pulled it back out of my face. My long hair feels like a curse sometimes. I guess by now you must be wondering a few things about me.

I was born Elyzabeth Spencer of London, England in the year 1821. I was born into a wealthy family during the British Regency era. I was raised a proper young woman and had a very sheltered childhood.

When I was 18 I was to be married to a man I hardly new. This was supposed to be the beginning of the rest of my life, only that was a life I will never know. My maker turned me Vampire on the eve of my wedding night.

My maker was a former solder under William the Conqueror during the Norman Invasion of England in year 1066. Vampires are known to flock to the battlefields following a battle, his maker discovered him wounded on the field of battle and knew he was a brave solder, worthy to be one of us.

Over the following centuries, my maker grew angry of what England had become and his sacrifice to its foundation. He loathed the upper class society that had developed. He turned me vampire so I would turn against my own people.

When you first become vampire your hunger is very strong, you hunt almost all the time and you drain your victims leaving them dead. This is the only way for a young vampire to survive.

As a vampire ages, we become stronger and the need to kill dissipates. I have been vampire for 157 years now and no longer have the desire to kill. I only need a moderate amount of blood to survive. Older vampires kill only when necessary as to not create any attention towards us from the mortal ones. This is why it is important for a maker to mentor a young vampire, to keep us hidden from the humans.

My maker didn’t mentor me as his reason for neglecting me those early years was so I would cause the out most havoc on London without any of his guidance. I was a terror on the people in those early years. This was when Jaguar stepped up and helped steer me onto a proper path. Vampires need to be discreet to survive amongst the living.

The one thing about being vampire is the way you were the moment you were turned, is the way you will remain for eternity. For me I was 18 years old, on my wedding night, a virgin with glorious long red mane of hair. This is how I shall always remain.

I shaved my head last night but woke up this morning and my hair is back to how it was before I shaved it, that’s what happens after you rest. You go back to how you were when you were turned. It can be a pain in the ass sometimes.

My hair wasn’t a big deal until the 1920’s really, that was when bob haircuts came into fashion. Unfortunately my bob haircuts never stayed. But that was what I had my Stan for.

I got up and went to the telephone. I called upstairs to George, the superintendent.

“Hello George, it’s me, Elyzabeth . Listen, I was wondering if you had the keys to the old Barbershop… You do, great. Can you meet me out front and open the door for me, I want to inspect it for a potential new tenant.”

George is my superintendent under my employ. I bought this building back in 1915 just after I first arrived in America. The Barbershop was Stanley’s. We opened it at the end of 1920 together and he ran it up until the day he died in 1963. The shop has sat boarded up and empty ever since.

George was out front and opened the door for me. I went inside. It still looked the same as when Stan left it. George comes in once a month to dust and clean it but other than that it is exactly how it was left.

I looked at the pictures on the wall, one of Stan and Myself back in 1920, the day we first opened the shop. My hair was neatly cut into a short steppe bob with a short fringe, this was one of Stan’s favourite haircuts on me. I miss my Stan very much, but that is what happens when you fall in love with a mortal. I took the picture off the wall and held it under my arm.

“George.” I called out and he entered the shop from outside.

“Yes Ma’am.” George said as he entered.

“I think it is time to clean out all of this stuff. I want you to put everything into Storage. You can hire a crew if you need to. I have a potential new tenant for this space so I want everything emptied out.”

“Yes Ma’am.” He said and we went out of the shop together locking the door.

I took that picture of Stan and I with me as a reminder of that time, keepsakes

I went back downstairs to my apartment and got changed for the evening. I changed into a black dress with white stockings and a pair of black Dock Marten boots. I checked my hair in the mirror and it was exactly how it always is. Long, auburn, full of curls flowing all the way down my back, just as it was on my wedding night. I smiled at my reflection. before taking off into the night

I walked back uptown to Hells Kitchen to Jason’s apartment to check in on him. I climbed the fire escape and slid back in through his window. He was lying there exactly where I left him. I slid my clothes off and laid down beside him on the futon to wait for him to wake up. He slowly started wake as I cuddled up next to him.

“What time is it?” he mumbled.

“I don’t know, probably around 9.” I said.

“9 AM?” he asked.

“No, PM silly.” I told him. “You’ve been sleeping all day.”

“OH SHIT.” He said getting up in a hurry. “I was supposed to work today.”

He ran over to his machine to check his messages and sure enough they had been calling.

“Don’t worry baby,” I said. “I get this feeling you won’t be needing that job anymore.”

He looked over at me. “Elyzabeth ! Your hair.” He said and I smiled.

I got up and walked over to him “You like it.”

“It is so…so beautiful.” He said.

“You can have it if you want.” I told him (as long as I get something in return).

He came over and pressed himself against me and ran his fingers through my hair.

“But how?” he asked.

“I guess you can call it a gift, or a curse, I’m not sure really.” I said.

I could see his face turning pale and he fainted. I grabbed him in my arm and carried him back to the futon.

“Sleep baby.” I told him. “You’ll get your strength back soon.”

Jason was weak from the blood loss. It is the same as when anyone donates blood really. It can just takes a day to get your strength back. I got changed, went over and kissed him on the forehead. He looked so cute lying there. I put his blanket over him to keep him warm. I went back out of the window and closed it. I made my way back down the fire escape and out into the night. I would come back the next evening when he regains his strength.

Thanks for reading,

Tammy