The Queen's Curls

-3703- Hope

The sliding door to her shop opens. This is definitely an improvement from her last door.

The girl in the doorway looked to be maybe seventeen, and she looked absolutely exhausted. She had what seemed to be grease smeared in several spots on her face and was in what looked to be the attire of a mechanic.

"Hi," says the girl, taking a rather cautious step into the parlour. "I'd like a haircut, please."

"Of course," the parlour woman says with a smile. "What is your name, dear?"

"Salem," the girl mutters. "Salem Alkeran."

"Nice to meet you, Salem. Follow me, please."

The parlour woman leads a Salem Alkeran to a salon chair and the girl practically falls into the chair.

"You look exhausted, love!" the woman says, putting her hands on Salem Alkeran's shoulders. "What's happened to make you like this?"

Salem sighs, closing her eyes. "My parents went missing last week. I've been trying to build a drifter bike for such a long time, and now with them missing and no one willing to help me look for them, my need for this bike to be finished is getting very big."

"I'm truly sorry to hear that about your parents, but how old are you, dear?"

"I'm turning seventeen in a week," Salem says. "Why?"

"Don't you have to be eighteen to drive a drifter bike?"

Salem gives the parlour woman a 'Really?' look in the mirror in front of her. "I'm pretty sure I could pass as a twenty year old with all this grease layered on my face."

The parlour woman shrugs. "I'm sure you could, but I was just wondering for the sake of your safety."

"Why do you care, though? We literally just met and you're worried about my safety?"

"Do you have a problem with it? Because I could always just change my mind on helping you search for your parents."

Salem sits straight up in her seat. "You were going to help me look?" The woman nods. "Why? Why are you being so nice to me?"

The woman smiles at the girl in the mirror. "Because you deserve it. You deserve anyone's kindness. Whether it be from the richest man in the world or a homeless woman on the streets, you deserve their kindness. And it looks to me that you haven't seen much of what I'm talking about lately."

"No, I haven't. No one has been this nice to me since before I quit the milita-" Salem stops herself.

"The military?" the woman says to herself, prepping her various scissors and brushes. "I thought in this century the military was mostly robots."

Salem shakes her head. "There is one colonel who refuses to command robots and demands to have a human regiment, so I was drafted and sent to war."

"Was this colonel's name Leno Groton?"

"Yes," Salem says. "Yes, that's him. Why?"

The parlour woman smiles. "I was in the same regiment as you, once. I was in Colonel Raymond Groton's regiment — Leno's great grandfather — and it was horrendous. We were always on the front lines, even though the robot soldiers were probably ten times better at everything we did. I was always the last one standing when we did drills, but the colonel never applauded me. He never showed appreciation for any of us, actually. I'm surprised none of us killed him. He died on the battlefield, like the hero he made himself out to be."

"Wait, did you say Colonel Groton's great grandfather?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

Salem's brows furrow in confusion. "You can't be that old. No way. No way in hell are you over thirty."

The parlour woman smiles. "Thank you dear, but I'm actually over eight hundred years old."

"No way! Are you a witch or something? An immortal being? Some kind of—"

"Time traveler?" The woman smiles. "You got it, love. I'm a time traveler, a witch, and I'm pretty certain I'm immortal. I haven't aged a day in the last eight hundred or so years!"

"How do you do it? How do you travel in time? Is there a machine that you've built or something?"

The parlour woman laughs. "The truth is, I wasn't able to travel before I owned this parlour. I bought this store off of an old friend after she had died, and now I travel with it, wherever it goes, but it never leaves without me. It's like a home you can always go back to. One that will always bring you on another adventure."

Salem smiles. "Man, I wish I could time travel. Then I'd be able to see who took my parents."

"Salem," the woman says, squeezing the girl's shoulder. "I've actually met your parents, and they weren't taken by anyone."

"Then what happened?" The girl was almost jumping out of her seat. "What happened to them?"

"They were drafted for the war, love. They took your place."

The parlour woman could see the tears spring to Salem's eyes. "No. No, you're lying. They're not on the lines. They can't be."

The parlour woman walks over to a tower of drawers and pulls out an envelope with the words 'Salem, the star in our night sky' written on it.

"They wanted me to give this to you, but I'm not going to give it to you just yet. I want you to read this when you get back to your home, and I want you to read it again, exactly one year from today. You will see why eventually."

The woman returns to the salon chair, envelope in hand, and places it in Salem's lap. The girl just picks the envelope up and places it in one of the front pockets of her jacket.

"Now," the parlour woman says. "How about we start on that haircut of yours?"

x x x

The two women walk back over to the counter side by side. Once the parlour woman reaches her side of the counter, she reaches into a drawer and pulls out a ring. It is a very simple design; three thin pieces of gold wire braided to form a ring shape, with three tiny, ruby red stones set upon it.

"I want you to wear this ring for the rest of your life. I want you to wear it as a memory of war and a reminder of what you've been through and what you've survived. I want you to wear this ring like armor, because it is. This ring will give you complete protection in times of danger or if you are in dire need of it."

The parlour woman leans across the counter to plant a kiss on Salem's forehead. "Goodbye, Salem Alkeran, and let the wisps of time be kind to you on your journey of hope."