Jiah had very beautiful, long black hair. I could always see small locks of it sticking out from under her hajib, and in the afternoon, when it got hot, she would uncover it, and it would almost flow around her ears, down her shoulders, and envelope her waist. I was very jealous of this beautiful hair, thes long, gorgeous hair she had. The sun glistening off of it reminded me of the stars glistening in the nights sky, or light reflecting off of the surface of the pond, like little diamonds embedded in a long,living, flowing silk hajib.

One day she came to the chicken coup with her face red, and her eyes wet with tears. I noticed that she wore her hajib almost to her eyes, in an attempt to hide her face. 

'Jiah,' I said nervously, 'What happened? What's wrong?' Jiah's lips started to tremble. Suddenly, she threw her arms around my shoulders, and sobbed into myu neck. Shocked, I lifted my arms and stroked her head. Wait, I  thought, Something about her head doesn't feel quite right...

I threw back her hajib. 'Jiah!' I gasped. 'How did this happen?'

Jiah's hair was gone. She had only about four to five inches of it left, hanging limply by her ears. She hadn't bothered to wash it or comb it, and it was ragged and felt like rope in my hands.

'A- A suitor came yesterday,' she stuttered between sobs. 'I didn't want to marry him. In- In my nervousness, I dropped a cup of tea on his lap-' she cut off, sobbing. I took her into my arms, as she sobbed, soaking my shoulder in her salty tears. 'Hes said to my father that he couldn't afford to have sch a clumsy wife.' I stayed silent. 'Father dragged me to his room after the suitor left, by my hair. He beat me, then he grasped it with his hands, and carelessly chopped it off.' As I heard this, I noticed the jagged line her hair was cut it, the awkward, clumsy shape of it in my hands. I comforted  her for a few minutes, before sitting her down on the grass, picking up her basket, and collecting the eggs from the chicken coup for her. I then picked her up, and helped her down the hill, to the little crystal pond amidst the trees, the resting place of the stream. I sat her down on the big flat stone we usually sat on, and helped splash some water on her face. I think the cold of the water shocked her out of her misery, and she calmed down after that.

We sat there for about an hour, towards the end of which she finally broke the silence.

Author guidance for This story

I'm not sure of the title.

It's supposed to start with Aziza in the airport, and then a flashback into her past. The story is supposed to be about her past, leading back up to the present, and ending with her uncovering herself infront of a woman security person, and finally boarding the plane.

It's kind of in the format of a bunch of connecting short stories, each about an aspect or incident in her life. Each chapter will be one short story.

updated Nov 4 '10 by Amberactuallyritu