//------------------------------//
// Beginning 
// Story: Hair 
// by Acologic 
//------------------------------//

The doors of the barn at Sweet Apple Acres parted. A pony squeezed through. He stepped into the space. He turned and pushed with one hoof. One hoof depressed the handle. Once the plate aligned with the jamb, the latch slid without a sound into place. He stepped toward the bales of hay and wriggled among them. He reached the wall and slid into a crouch. He adjusted his legs and leaned his head. He waited. The doors opened. A pony walked in. She kicked the doors shut and tossed aside her hat. She dipped her face into a bucket of water and emerged, sighing. She dried herself with a towel and went upstairs. The pony behind the bales waited. He slithered out and crept toward the bucket. He peered into the water. His face twitched. He ran a hoof across the rim. He raised the hat and looked and felt inside it. He lifted the towel and inspected it. He replaced the towel and the hat and shook his head. He eyed the staircase. He wriggled behind the bales and waited.

The doors opened. A pony traipsed in. He moved his head from side to side. His neck clicked. He pushed off the collar that he wore and placed it onto a hook. He picked up the bucket and emptied it over his face. He grunted and tossed his head. Water flew from his mane. He stretched, then climbed the stairs. The pony behind the bales waited. Voices spoke above him. Laughter rang out. He waited. Smells of cooking permeated the space. He shut his eyes and muffled with his hooves a sneeze. He waited. A door opened and a pony walked down the stairs. He stepped outside, blew out the lamps, returned and locked the barn. The pony behind the bales waited. No sound came from above. He crept from the bales and toward the stairs. He touched the first step. He held his breath and pushed. The wood creaked. He stopped, closed his eyes, waited, breathed and climbed.

Once he reached the landing, he stopped and stared. He raised a hoof and pressed. A door swung open. He stopped. Straw rustled. He gulped and waited. No sound came. He stepped into the doorway. Moonlight illuminated the corridor. There were four more doors. He examined the doors. One was ajar. He poked his head in. It was a bathroom. He went to the sink. He felt around the bowl. He bent down and rubbed the floor. He stopped. He raised his hoof. He returned to the corridor and brought his hoof into the light. He stared. He gritted his teeth. He watched the doors. He held his breath and pushed. The door stayed put. He stepped forward, felt and pushed. This door opened. He slipped into the room and stared. It was a kitchen. On the table lay the remains of a meal. He felt the plates and the chairs. He shook his head. Then he froze.

A door had opened. Hoofsteps clicked in the corridor. A light went on. He drew into the shadows. A pony sat in the bathroom. Urine fell into water. There were a pause, a flush and hoofsteps. He peeked. A small pony opened one of the doors, entered and closed and bolted it. He waited, then slid toward the end of the corridor. He paused. He pushed. The door swayed inward. He caught the door with his hoof and slipped into the room. He breathed out and waited. No sound came. His eyes reached the bed and widened. His mouth twitched. A pony lay in the bed. Her eyes were closed. Her body rose and fell. He stood, watching. He shivered. He moved out of the moonlight and stepped forward. He reached the bed. He was shaking. He raised a hoof, lowered it and raised it. He reached. Her eyes flickered. He shrank back and waited, trembling.

She did not move. He closed his eyes, breathed out and opened them. He tiptoed around the bed and to the other side. He scanned the covers. He eyed the pillow. He hesitated, then stretched out his hoof. He skimmed the fabric. He retracted his hoof and raised it into the light. He reached out. Her head moved. His hoof shot backward. The pony in the bed shifted. He stumbled backward, his eyes wide. She shook the covers and turned. He ducked and pressed himself flat against the floorboards. She sighed. He breathed in time with her breathing and waited. He raised his head, then his legs. He pushed himself upward and watched. She was facing him. Her eyes were closed. He moved to the other side. He checked the pillow. He stared. He walked to a chest of drawers and ran his hooves over it. He stooped and felt the floor. He raised his hooves. He felt. He raised his hooves.

His eyes flicked to the pony in the bed. He rose and walked to the bedside. He stared at her head. He leaned in, paused and waited. She breathed. He leaned in closer and brought his hoof onto the mattress. The mattress gave. She shifted. He tensed. She relaxed. He relaxed. He adjusted his hooves and reached. He steadied a hoof above her head, then brought it down. He waited. He brought it down and skimmed her mane. She was still. He retracted his hoof and raised it into the light. He bit his lip. He adjusted his position, steadied his hoof, brought it down and pulled. She stirred. He stopped and stared. She was still. He retreated to the foot of the bed. He brushed the mattress and raised his hoof into the light. His shoulders slumped. His mouth trembled. He stepped backward and watched. He waited. She was still.

He crept toward her. He reached out. He skimmed her mane and stared at his hoof. He shuddered. He skimmed her mane. She made a noise. He ducked. She moved a hoof and shifted her head. His eyes widened. He touched the ends of her mane. He stretched out his forehooves and made a pincer. He brought his hooves together in the air above her head and pulled. She started. He dropped to the floor and hugged the side of the bed. She kicked the covers. Her hooves descended. He held his breath, his body rigid. She walked to the window, reached for the curtains and drew them. His eyes flicked from side to side. She rolled into bed, tugged the covers, shifted and sighed. He waited, breathing with her, moving nothing. He waited. He waited. He peeled himself from the floor and blinked. He felt the bed. He touched the mattress and stopped. He outlined the frame, hovered above the headboard and paused. 

He blinked. He bit his lip. He waited. She was still. He was still. He stayed, his head above hers. He widened his eyes and leaned forward. He smelled her. He stopped. He smelled. He opened his mouth. He stuck out his tongue. He felt the air. He stopped. His neck straining, he adjusted his hooves. He opened his mouth, bared his teeth and bit. He stopped. He licked the air. He held his breath and curled his tongue. He retracted it and closed his jaw. He bit. Something severed. He pulled back his head, trembling. He turned and crept to the door. He slipped out of the room and down the corridor, his legs quivering. He descended the stairs. He reached the barn doors. He tried the handle. The doors rattled and stayed shut. He stared. He spun around. He scanned the windows and the bales of hay. He turned and examined the lock. He turned again, showing his back to the doors, steadied himself and lashed out with his hind legs. The frame cracked. He threw open the doors and shot out into the night.

He reached the orchard and pressed himself against a tree. He lowered his head, raised a hoof and stuck out his tongue. He licked his hoof. He raised it into the moonlight. He swallowed. His mouth wobbled. His eyes shone. On the tip of his hoof was stuck half of a golden hair. His chest shook. He opened his mouth, restored the hair onto his tongue and stood. He travelled to the edge of the orchard and cleared the fence. He trotted into town. He passed the Golden Oak Library. He stopped. Behind an upper window a light was on. He took a step toward it. His eyes glinted. He turned away and continued. He reached a row of houses. He jumped into the garden of the nearest house and stopped at a patch of grass by the wall. He pulled a metal ring. A door opened. He stepped into a cellar. He felt the wall and brushed a cord. He tugged it. A light flickered on. The door closed.

He pushed aside a chair and licked the table. He touched with the tip of his hoof his saliva and raised the former into the light. He held the fragment of golden hair. He smiled and reached for a bag that lay on the floor. From it he extracted a matchbox. He scraped the hair into the matchbox and closed it. He placed the matchbox onto the table. He pushed away the bag and sat in the chair. He leaned backward and stretched. He chuckled. His body was trembling. He sighed and closed his eyes. He inhaled. He exhaled. He inhaled. He sighed. He stood up, walked to the cord and pulled it. The light went out. He felt the wall until he reached a corner and, with a grunt, wriggled onto his side. He stretched his neck, shifted his hooves and closed his eyes. He lay still and waited.