The Haunted Hairbrush

Suspicions

"How are you doing Kendra?", I ask, worried. "I'm fine, now if you would let me concentrate on finishing this collage, you get back to working on the model!", she's annoyed, which is nothing new. "Right, sorry", I murmur.

It's been two weeks since we bought that hairbrush. So much has changed. She's changed. Everyone and anyone who knows her has noticed. Well, I suppose I should start from the beginning.

One day after mall-visit:

"So, how did Aunt Ella's baby shower go?", Connor, Kendra, and I are sitting on the living room couches at her house. Ken blows a strand of hair out of her face,"Horrible, nobody noticed my shoes— white-gray block heels". Connor rolls his eyes, "It was worse for me, my cake shaping invention failed".

"Cake-shaping invention?", Ken and I speak curiously at the same time. "Yeah, I had a spinny clay machine, you put a lump of clay on it and it spins while you use your hands, knives, or whatever to shape the clay how you want it". Our faces must've looked quite confused because then he went on to explain, "I tried it with a cake because —". Kendra interrupted.

"Yeah yeah. Moving on, did I mention my new hairbrush?". Connor and I exchange a surprised look—Ken is not usually self -centered at all and loves learning about her brother's failed inventions. She whips out the antique object out of seemingly nowhere.

"Do you carry that thing around with you wherever you go?", I ask, incredulous. "No...maybe...yes??", she replies, hugging the hairbrush close to herself. She puts it flat on the palm of her hand. I lean forward to get a good look at it.

Connor does too. She slaps our faces away, making me raise my eyebrows. What is her deal? "I was going to take a picture of it, you daft bimbos!", she rolls her eyes and shakes her head at us. I growl quietly. I don't get angry very easily, but acting condescending usually gets to me.

I take a deep breath, "Right, of course, my bad". Connor shoots me a look that clearly says 'are you kidding me? '. After the photo of the hairbrush that I mistakenly thought was going to be the only one, many more followed, mostly involving different angles of the hairbrush and Kendra taking selfies with it.

After about ten minutes of this torture, I finally sighed and stood up. "Ken, sorry but I have to go now, you know, we have that science project due in, well, a month". She ignores me, posing for another selfie. I'm about to walk away when Connor grabs me by the arm and whispers, "This better be a phase that she's going through and not permanent because if it is, I don't know what I'm going to do."

I nod slightly and exit the house.

Three days after the mall visit:

We are walking down the school hallway when I realize something. "Ken, your hair is extremely messy! You always brush your hair, no matter the circumstances", I cry. A few students turn and stare at us.

She gives me a blank look. I shoot back an incredulous one. "Oh, right, my hair, I haven't brushed it since I got Narcos Obscurus". "Narcos Obscurus?", I furrow my brow. "Yeah, you know, the hairbrush". I gape at her, "You gave the hairbrush a name?!".

"Well, yeah, it...spoke to me". We reach the science room. I realize that my mouth is still wide open and quickly shut it. "That doesn't explain your messy hair". She laughs, "Oh you silly, I would never brush my hair with Narcos Obscurus! It's a work of art!".

Mr.Jones enters the classroom as we take a seat at our desks. I look around and realize that we were too loud so people are shooting us curious glances. Mr.Jones clears his throat, "Attention class, we'll continue working on our science cells projects, remember, one collage and another option of your choice."