January 2016 75-word Writing Challenge -- VICTORY TO LITTLESTAR!

[Vaz]

Strands



“One of yawls lyin’” Dutch said.


Core swallowed his grog eyeing the others; fiery eels swam his guts as fingers crept towards triggers.


Stalking towards him Dutch stroked at the crew’s hair.


Screaming followed the tearing of fibre-optic follicles.


Core hid as hell burst loose.


When he crawled out Dutch was still functioning, his cogs wheezed.


"Brother.”


"Not by blood.”


Core removed his wig. A snarl froze on Dutch’s face as he was shut down.

 

[Idealect]

He hadn't expected, or wanted, to see anyone.

But, in a clearing she'd floated, bathed in light -long lashes of hair swirling heedlessly around a careless form.

And he.. didn't mind.

And he didn't so much as wish for those wisps of hair to stop the -air -caressing,

-to wrap or daintily alight her skin.

For even her beautiful body was all beauty and no body to him; its beauty all her light, and lightness.

 

[StilLearning]

A spaghetti braid western....

Antonio had stalked her, following her white Stetson and grey jacket, following the incredible blond braid that wrapped around her. A unique scalp, very saleable.

A mile into the desert she’d vanished-

Something wrapped around his neck. Choking, he fell. As he scrabbled for his pistol her boot stamped down, snapping his arm.

"Aaahh …!"

She re-tightened her braid around his neck, choking the scream. “Tonight,” she laughed “you’re meat for the old gods…”

 

[TheDustyZebra]

OK, Sally On


“Van Dyke, this hair town ain’t big enough fur the both of us.”

.....“Oh, Marcel Dillon.” The new comber finger-waves. “Please, call me Bob.”

Overhead sun glints off pearl-handled scissors, facing off across the square.

“Your crew cut out already. You think I got five mullets in me, or six? Gotta ask yourself – ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, punk?”

Rainbow coxcomb weaves toward the cornrows, departing.

.....“You ain’t seen the last of me!”

 

[HareBrain]

HAIR TRIGGER


Like all quick-draw artists, he was vain. Haircut before each fight, and woe betide you getting one strand out of place.

I’m not vain, but I have my pride.

I watched him face off against his young challenger, the dusty breeze stirring his locks.

They drew, and in my pocket I tugged the braid plaited from a year of off-cuts.

Head jerked back, shot missed. Dead.

‘That’ll learn ya, Mister No-Tip,’ I muttered.

 

[The Judge]

The Yellow ’Rows of Texas


We thought we wuz buyin' a horse ranch.

Curly’s fault. Reckoned French lessons at Madame Bouffant‘s meant he could read the Cajun lawyer’s contract. Didn’t know the difference ’tween chevaux an’ cheveux.

An’ hair-wranglin’ ain’t no picnic. Jus’ last week Bob got trimmed permanent when two blond quiffs took a roll in the brunette crop. An’ I dreads more bangs in the beehives.

So we’re sellin’ up; farmin’ thugs instead. Hair today, goon tomorrow.

 

[Ursa major]

​

Building the Central Pacific: Construction Overheads​

“They don’t look Chinese. And their hair’s—”

“—dyed,” I said quickly. “China’s a big place.”

“So?”

“It contains all sorts of people. These ones work harder than most, keeping us on schedule. And they’re dirt cheap.”

That seemed to satisfy him. Which was just as well.

I didn’t want him discovering that my labourers were dead, scalped Injuns who I’d dug up and turned into hard-working zombies. Bewigged zombies who didn’t need paying….

 

[Mad Alice]

The Dead of Winter

"Sheriff's coming, Mama."
I braided Ma's hair into thick rope.
Pa never returned from paying off the Ranch.
Cattlemen's Association ran off our herd after.
Left me and Ma starving in the dead of winter.
Stuart paused beneath our tree, spat. "Lynching Averell for Rustling .. Weren't wimmen."

"Cattlemen pay you. Its our water now."
Ma's braid twisted choking them.
We floated down as they stilled.
"Two more hands for the ranch, Ma."

 

[Ursa major]

The Challenge closed to new entries 17 minutes ago, and voting is open at the link below:

POLL -- JANUARY 2016 75-Word Challenge -- READ FIRST POST!​