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The cold water bounced like needles, but she didn’t care. She grabbed the soap and went to work, scrubbing from her scalp to her toes. A month in those bloody mountains, she thought, with barely enough water to drink, much less have a wash.
Around her feet, a brown and red flow swirled around the drain. People always ask what I miss, she thought. Plumbing. I always miss plumbing.
By Anthony StClair on 10.17.2013
She felt the fingers rubbing soothing circles into her scalp, working the shampoo in with the almost-too-hot water, and she couldn’t resist closing her eyes just for a moment. Only that moment went on longer than most moments did, and she found herself blinking rapidly when she was tapped gently on the shoulder, the person’s fingers no longer in her hair,
By Lilli Q on 10.17.2013
I often want to punch ticket scalpers when I see them on my way into “sold out” shows.
By Intuition on 10.17.2013
By Carlene on 10.17.2013
If the mind is a reservation, brainwashing is like slitting open the scalp and purging the individualism from it. Brainwashing isn’t something used only to torture, unless we count fox news…
By Rose on 10.17.2013
She was very careful when colouring her hair that the dye didn’t stay on too long on her scalp to cause any irritation. She was really worried about this.
By Alexandra on 10.17.2013
i dont know what a scalp is so i will not embarres myself by writing a little story and using the word wrong..is my time up already? No..okay. Lalala
By Isis on 10.17.2013
found a strand of your hair on my pillow this morning
(i think you left some of your dust behind:
penchant for blueberry jam instead of grape)
By h. b. on 10.17.2013
My scalp got injured when I hit my head on the window, as I was trying to closed it. I had to visit the clinic to get it attended too.
By victor URL on 10.17.2013
I feel like I’ve been scalped. I was happy living out my little peon’s existence, unaware of the outside world, and then you and your band of billy-boy thugs had to ride into town on your warhorses, shooting the women, clubbing the babies against rocks, and then ripping off our scalps and selling them when you get back home for one more free drink at the bar.
By John Doe on 10.17.2013
“Hold still! I’m trying not to stain your scalp. Or your clothes. Or the entire bathroom, for that matter.”
“I don’t care, it burns!” Alyssa pulled tighter on the towel around her neck, praying that the blue hair dye didn’t end up on her skin, again. She couldn’t handle four more months of being called “smurf.”
By Kristina on 10.17.2013
He itched his scalp, watching in slight horror as white flakes fell from his chocolate locks. He did NOT want this to happen five minutes before his big date. Frowning and mildly panicking, he tossed the black sweater to the side and picked up the white t-shirt.
By Josie on 10.17.2013
‘Don’t talk to me like that!’ He shouted in his vile, slimy
tone. His greasy fingers took a hold on my hair, and he yanked as
hard as he could. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes as the
pain clouded my vision. My scalp was near to bleeding, and I felt
like I was about to faint. This was my last chance. If I fell
unconscious then I would be dead in seconds, I was sure of that. So
I took a deep breath, one that could easily have been my last, and
swung my head back. The revolting sound of bone breaking could be
heard as my head came into contact with his nose. He was
temporarily distracted, he loosened his hold on me allowing his
hands to go flying to his face. In that brief moment, it was as
though all time had stopped, and for the briefest of seconds, a
glimmer of hope was shining through the murkiness that had been my
life so far. I ran, ran as fast as I could, desperate to escape
this murderous cockroach of a man.
By Cate Tren on 10.17.2013
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.