Seven Devils and a Rose

I never liked getting my hair cut, but in this case, I would have to make an exception. It was getting to the point of being unmanageable, the length reaching my waist. Not only was it hard to shampoo, but it was always getting in the way when I was experimenting with my cooking. Flicking the long strands away from my face, I strolled along the seaside street of St. James Island, which was a very beautiful place. Clear, blue sky stretched endlessly beyond the horizon, with picturesque, white sand beaches that promised many tourists a lovely relaxing holiday, especially during the summer. Not to mention the charming little town lined with antique shops and beautiful buildings that dated back to the early seventeenth century. Once again, I simply couldn’t believe I was here. This all had begun with Mom, who had wanted to run her own little business in the form of a writer’s retreat while I started my freshman year at the university. As she had stated, her little elf was leaving the nest and Mom needed a diversion. A few months in, while I was doing my best at settling in on campus, making new friends, and rushing around going to classes, Mom called and told me they had found a place for sale, which resided on a small island along the East Coast—just off the state of New York. I was overjoyed for them and couldn’t wait to visit the new place, especially when Mom had described how mysterious and magical it was. Now here I was. This island would be my new home for the next couple of months before I returned to the university for my sophomore year. That was if I had managed to pass all the exams, which I wasn’t very confident about. It wasn’t long before I spotted a pretty little building amongst the others which housed a gift shop on the ground floor and the hair and beauty salon on the first. I passed the gift shop and walked up the steps toward the first floor. On the landing, I noticed the sign that said “St. James Beach Hair and Beauty Salon” with an arrow pointing which way I should go, which was straight up. I followed the sign and, a few seconds later, opened the door. Ding-dong. The door announced my arrival. Immediately, a woman came to greet me. “Hello there. How can I help you today?” she asked sweetly, a bright smile about her lips. I said, “I have an appointment for a haircut and body wax at three today.” The woman nodded and checked the computer screen. A moment later, she asked, “You’re Alfie Nak…” She paused and tried again. “Alfie Na-ka-mu-ra?” She was obviously having difficulty pronouncing my last name, which was not unexpected. Most people had difficulty, unless they happened to know how to speak Japanese, like Mom and of course Dad, naturally, since he was native Japanese. And my first name. Alfie. It was obviously a boy’s name, and I was certainly not a boy. Then again, when you had a pair of otaku as parents, what would you expect? Dad, an Asian man with jet-black hair and dark-brown eyes, loved anything epic fantasy and elves. In fact, he had countless collections of posters, digital art, and figurines featuring elves, which took up most of the space in his study and parts of the library in our new manor here on the island. That couldn’t be helped since he was a fantasy author and was doing very well with his books ever since he had started his writing career twenty years ago. When I came into the world—bundle of joy that I was—I was immediately his little elf. I was told that Dad had decided I would be given a name that had something related to an elf. Mom, too, who was an all-American beauty with honey-blond hair and bright-blue eyes, decided to go along with him since she was an anime and manga fanatic who was in love with the fantasy genre as much as Dad, who loved to write them. Since she had high hopes that I’d become as smart, alluring, and magical as an elf—as if that were even possible—Alfie was an obvious choice. I said, “Alfie Yuki Akari Nakamura, yes, that’s me.” The woman chuckled and said, “You do look a little bit like an elf.” She paused and added in a hurry, “I meant it as a compliment.” “I know,” I said, amused. She introduced herself. “I’m Joyce, and I’ll be doing your facial and waxing for you when Claire is done with your hair.” So she was Joyce, and the one currently cutting another client’s hair was Claire, Mom’s new friends here on the island. Joyce said, “You’re Alfie, Elizabeth’s daughter, right?” As I nodded, she chuckled. “Your mom talks about you all the time.” “Does she?” I asked, feeling slightly embarrassed. I hoped Mom hadn’t told them how much I liked cosplay, especially when I dressed as a cute elf. I believe we are an elf-fanatic family. Joyce nodded and then told me to take a seat, which I did and made myself comfortable. I noted the hairdresser, Claire, was busy expertly chopping off hair as her fingers moved about this way and that. Those hands looked as though they were dancing in the air, and I was mesmerized. It wasn’t long before the woman’s curls were shaped into something that was unique and beautiful. I was just picking up a magazine to read when Joyce walked past me and said, “Claire won’t be long.” I nodded. When Claire was done with her client about ten minutes later, she cleaned up and then called out to me. “Alfie, you can come on and take a seat.” I got up and easily slid into the offered chair. I made myself comfortable as Claire asked me what I wanted done.  I tilted my head to one side and said, “Short and easy to manage. The long hair is always getting in the way, and it’s hard to manage.” “I see,” Claire said. “Do you still want it long enough to tie at the back?” I thought about this for a moment and nodded. “Yes, just enough to tie at the back when I’m working.” “Okay then,” she said and then proceeded. I took off my glasses and left them sitting on the bench in front of me. Then I picked up a magazine, flipped the pages open, and brought it close to my face to read since I was nearsighted. Claire chuckled. “Why didn’t you wear contact lenses? It would have been easier to read while I do your hair.” I shook my head. “Contacts irritate my eyes.” “I see,” she said. “Must be hard not being able to wear them, eh? Most girls these days like wearing contact lenses because it shows off their eyes when they wear makeup.” “I get on fine.” I liked hiding my eyes behind my glasses, simply because I never liked making direct eye contact with people when I was talking to them. I knew it was rude to do that, but there was simply something too raw, intimate, and intimidating for my liking when I had to look into someone else’s eyes. I felt like I could see right into the depths of their soul, which was dark and quite morbid most of the time, and I didn’t like it. Claire went about washing my hair with some very delicious-smelling shampoo. God, the way she massaged my head felt so good. In fact, I almost fell asleep in the process. Then I was back in the chair, and once again, I brought the magazine close to my face and started reading an article about an elderly couple who went on holiday to some old castle in Europe and found themselves being transported into another realm. Really? What has the world come to? Another realm? Magical beasts, paranormal creatures, and such? I rolled my eyes. Some people were just doing this for the money, right? Making up stories for the hype or something? Or was it the author’s idea? Some journalist writing some fake article… “Claire?” I asked. “Hmm?” “Do you believe there’s another realm somewhere out there?” The woman chuckled, no doubt in amusement. “I don’t believe in stuff like that, Alfie.” I nodded in understanding. “It’s just not tangible, right?” Claire said loudly, “What about you, Joyce? What do think about the existence of another realm?” Joyce said from the other side of the salon, “Me? Hmm… I’m a bit of a fantasy girl, but still, the reality is stuff like that just doesn’t exist. It’s just not possible.” Claire said, “I say if you can see it, feel it, smell it, hear it, and taste it, then yes, it’s real and it’s tangible, like our world. But another realm? A bit too far-fetched.” I nodded in agreement. “Another realm is just hocus-pocus.” Just as I said that, though, I couldn't help but let my imagination run wild with visions of a f*******n forest, grand castles, wide barren land, flying ships, unique beasts, and exotic creatures. I sighed dreamily and then said, “Then again, wouldn’t it be wonderful, though, to just be there for a day or two, like when you’re visiting a country as a tourist? You get to see, smell, feel, hear, and taste what’s on offer.” Claire chuckled. “You like traveling and food, don’t you?” I smiled cheekily. “That I do. And I love cooking, too.” “Are you studying to become a chef or something to do with traveling and tourism?” I shook my head. “Unfortunately, no. I’m currently studying health science, and God only knows if I passed my exams or not. I have absolutely no chemistry with chemistry and have no idea what’s up or down in physics. As for biology? It’s okay. I think I’ll pass that. And statistics? I’m no good with numbers either. All I did was memorize formulas and stuff and have no idea how that is related to life or how it’s useful in life.” Behind us, Joyce laughed. “You poor thing. Why on earth would you study something that you have no passion for?” I shrugged. “Security, I guess. I’m going with the majority. Just following the other lambs into slaughter." I chuckled nervously. "Fact is I was scared when I graduated high school because I had to think hard about what I wanted to do with my life. Since I passed all the science subjects, I figured I might as well go for health science, as that field is getting bigger and jobs are easier to find, I think. Then again, I didn’t know the university was so hard, much harder than high school curriculum.” “I guess that’s true,” Claire said. “That the health industry is getting bigger and better. Then again, passion, Alfie, is the most important thing when it comes to jobs. You are going to be spending a large part of your life devoting yourself to it, and you don’t want to spend it on a job you don’t like. As for me, I love my job, and my work doesn’t feel like work at all.” Claire was right, wasn’t she? Was it stupid of me to think I could endure spending the rest of my life working in a field I had no passion for? Did that mean I’d have to change course come next year when I returned to the university? I sighed, feeling rather depressed suddenly. “Done!” Claire said. I leaned forward, picked up my glasses, and put them on my face. The moment I saw myself in the mirror, I could only stare. Short jet-black hair softly framed a slender, oval face with slanted dark-brown eyes, straight nose, plump lips, and small chin. “Oh,” I expressed. “Like it?” Claire asked. I turned my head this way and that to check myself out in the mirror. My hair was so short now, and my head felt light. I stroked my fingers through the strands and nodded. “I like it. I look like a boy,” I said as I chuckled in amusement. Claire c****d her head to one side. “You do, don’t you? A cute boy with soft features. If you had pointy ears, you’d look like an elf for sure.” I laughed because she was right. Then it was Joyce's turn to attend to me. She took me into a lovely small room filled with the aroma of scented candles, told me to lie on the bed, made me comfortable, and then proceeded with first doing a facial cleansing and then a full-body waxing. By the time she was done, an hour later, my skin was sore all over—though very soft and smooth. After paying the fees for my beauty treatment—a once-a-year treat for myself—I thanked both Claire and Joyce politely and headed out the door.