The Strand of Hair

It’s a hair. A green one of all things. Must have been died permanently before the Restorationist Revolution. Because the Reformation Party banned green hair dyes so long ago I can barely remember when.

I do remember the weeks and months before it took effect, though. The number of young people dying their hair green or silver or purple with permanent hair dye skyrocketed. All in the hope of giving the Reformation Party the finger one more time. Of course all it did was make it the law earlier than they wanted to. Then when people kept doing it they killed them before you could say Adolph Hitler three times fast.

Hair strand, where did your human go? Did she get told that she had clinical depression simply because she died you green? I’ve never known anyone who dyed their hair any color, except for Governess who dyed her hair brown to hide the grey ones. Do you like being dyed green? Did the dye feel sticky like stickers when your human smeared it all up and down your body? Or did it feel more like sea water, only to become stickier and stickier as time went by?

Hair strand, which camp did you first get sent to? Was it in California, the place the Reformationist called full of nothing but incubi and Satan-worshippers and fallen angels because they didn’t agree with their politics anyway? Or was it in Nebraska, the land of saints and archangels and cherubim who were sexually aroused by watching fallen angels get tortured and starved and gassed? How many of your sister and brother hair strands got left behind there? Did any of them get burned in the crematory? Did you ever get cut in half because the overlords didn’t like you?

Hair strand, how many of you humans escaped from the camp? Did he want to escape? Or did his human friends force him into fleeing with three bags of personal belongings so the others could have themselves heard? What happened to the bags and bags and bags of mementos? Did he lose the bags before you fell off? Or did you fall off before you could ever find out what happened to them? What do you think will happen to them? Will they cross the border? Or are they going to get caught and cursed at and killed before they even have a chance to catch a glimpse of Canada?

Oh, what am I doing? What can the strand of hair do, reply? It can’t even hear what I’m thinking because it’s in my head. And besides, it’s more illegal than I am, and if it’s more illegal than me, what’s the point in even bothering to think?