My Grandfather isn't Allowed to Cut Hair

My parents told me about my grandfather. He was a decent man, served in the army as a surgeon for years, but something over there changed him. Maybe it was the destruction or the gore, or even the stress. We really didn’t know. All they told me was that one day he snapped. They didn’t tell me what happened. I’m not sure they knew themselves.
One day he was a great surgeon, the next they stuck him as the barber. That was it, straight fall, no ifs ands or buts. It didn’t stop there. He lasted a day as a barber, maybe even half a day if my mother is right. He was discharged in the blink of an eye.
He lives on his own now. Grandmother died in childbirth, so he didn’t have anyone to come home to anyways. From then on he was a quiet, distant man. We visited him on holidays, but never more than an hour, and every time he just stared blankly at the wall never saying a word. I didn’t think anything of it, he was just a weird old person to me, and so I kept myself busy with toys or my phone, as years passed.
One week my parents had to go on a trip, some last minute conference overseas, and while I was old enough to not have a babysitter, they felt better knowing someone was there all the same. At such late notice though, they couldn’t find a soul. So they turned to the only adult they knew who was free: my grandfather.
I was ready to be bored out of my mind stuck with him, and when he pulled into the driveway in his old Buick I honestly was a little surprised. With the way he acted I didn’t think he could drive.
A thought occurred to me. I had friends who wanted to hang out this weekend, but with my parents gone, all plans had cancelled rather quickly. But if grandpa had a car, he could drive me.
My parents waved their goodbyes and drove away. Grandpa sat in the recliner my father normally occupied, and took on his normal countenance. I rolled my eyes, but powered forward. Even if he ended up ignoring me, I had to try.
“Hey grandpa…†I mumbled. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder, “Grandpa.â€
He actually turned towards me, startling me a bit. His eyes seemed to take focus finally, right on me.
“You have such long hair.†He drawled out.
I blinked at him strangely. Sure, I was a boy, and sure, I had hair that had gotten a bit long over the summer, but I normally just waited until school was ready to start up before I bothered Mom about it. Largely, it was the most words I’d ever heard him say.
“Uh, yah, I guess.†I replied, “But anyway Grandpa, I was wondering if I could ask you to give me a ride somewhere.â€
He gave me a few slow blinks and I thought for sure he was gone again.
“Alright.†He agreed, “But you can’t go out with a ‘do like that.â€
If that was the price to pay, so be it. It didn’t matter to me either way.
I grinned from ear to ear, “Cool, let me text my friends, and I’ll meet you in the car.â€
He slowly stood, and looked around, “Do you have any clippers?†He asked.
“Like scissors?†I questioned.
He shook his head. “Electric ones, like maybe your dad might have used.†He corrected.
I was sure dad probably had a set somewhere. I went back to their room, into the bathroom, and under the sink, digging around. It took a bit, but in the back, sure enough there were clippers in a little carrying case.
I brought them back out and handed them over. He zipped it open and nodded in approval, zipped it back up, and then began to make his way to the car. I followed, trying not to bounce on my heels.
We got in and got moving down the road before I realized I better call my parents, no matter how much I didn’t want to. If they decided to call the house to check on me and no one answered there would be hell to pay.
I flipped open my phone and punched in their cell number. After a few rings my mom fumbled with the phone, I could hear her distantly muttering something like, ‘It’s your phone honey, I don’t know how it works.’
Finally her voice became clear, albeit a bit loud, as she shouted into the phone, “Hello?â€
I heard my dad tell her about shouting and she tried again, “Hello?â€
“Hi mom, it’s me, just wanted to let you know that grandpa is taking me over to Sean’s.â€
“Oh, honey, don’t bother your grandfather now.†She chided.
I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me, “It’s fine, I asked and he said it’s okay.†I replied.
“Can I speak to him?†She queried.
“He’s driving right now.†I responded, but while I said that I realized we were sitting stock still at a stop sign, close to the edge of town, without me even recognizing we had moved. I made to hand him the phone, but he was just staring down at his hands, admiring the clippers I had handed him earlier.
At first I thought he was in another trance maybe, but he turned them in his hands, almost petting them like a small animal or lost lover. I shook my head. Old people were weird.
I snapped out of it and noticed my hand was still halfway to him with the phone and pulled it back to my ear.
“Hold just a sec mom; let me tell him where to go.â€
I pushed the phone under my chin before letting her respond, “Just head straight that way and turn right at the 2nd light.
We sat there and just as I was about to repeat what I said he began to pull forward, not really looking at the road, still just down at the clippers. It was the outskirts anyways, with barely any actual civilization in sight, just hills or farmland was all the eye could see. I didn’t have to worry about him hitting anything, but I kept an eye on the road in case I needed to grab the wheel all the same.
I pulled the phone back to my ear, hearing the beginning crackle of static. I always forgot signal was bad this far out of town.
“I’ll let you go mom, we’re heading out of range.â€
“What?†Back to shouting again. I repeated myself, raising my voice just a tad, speaking a little slower. I nearly jumped out of my seat as a strange noise came from the drivers’ side of the car.
I snapped my head that way, startled, only to realize he had just turned the clippers on, still admiring them, same as before.
I calmed my heart, ready to hang up the phone when my mom tried to say something else.
“What was that mom, I can’t hear you?â€
“I said….that noise?†Static garbled her again, but I thought I got the gist of it.
“Grandpa is just playing with the clippers, he wants to give me a hair cut before we go.â€
A burst of noises and more static.
“What?†I pressed the phone into my ear, plugging the other from the constant clipper sound on the other side.
“Don’t….hair…†The static was almost unbearable, growing louder as Grandpa chugged along, turning the wrong way at the light.
“Mom, I’ll call you when I get there from the land line, I can’t hear you.â€
“Won’t…stop….†And then the static took over, deafening, and I just shut the phone, ready to correct our course.
“Grandpa, it’s a right back there, you took a left.â€
“Just a small detour, these babies won’t be enough, I have more tools at my place.†He spoke over the noise, and glanced over to me for the first time on our little ride, his eyes gleaming, looking happy for once in his life, at least the most I had ever seen.
I was a little crestfallen, but I knew he didn’t live that much further, and figured there was no point to ruining his good mood. I may lose my ride if I did.
Time dragged by none the less. The radio didn’t work in the car (tried it), and besides cows, nothing was worth looking at out here in the boonies. When we finally pulled into his drive I did my best not to wince.
I’d visited once when I was little, and my parents mentioned it a lot, but since my last stay Grandpa’s cabin had fallen into a hell of a state.
An ancient looking house built what looked like centuries ago stood on a bed of over grown weeds and dirt clumps. The trees overheard were long dead and creaked back and forth in the breeze as I cracked open my door to step out. The windows were all boarded up, the little bits you could see covered in dust, the door hung slightly off kilter, broken it places, and cobwebs covered every perceivable surface. It felt like the whole foundation was askew, ready to sink into the earth at the slightest touch.
Grandpa stood, making his way to the front door, clippers still buzzing at his side, only stopping to turn back to me and motion me inside. I didn’t like the idea, but with the smallest of smiles, all teeth, from Grandpa, I caved and followed him in.
The inside of the house was no better off.
Most of the furniture was covered in plastic sheets save for one well worn recliner. You could see the path he normally walked when home, it being the only clean section of floor visible, and thoroughly scuffed. The dust was thick everywhere you looked, and every breath felt laden with more of it.
I held a hand over my mouth and followed him into the kitchen. He pulled a dining chair out, pulling the sheet of it as he did so, motioning me to sit down. I did, glancing at the pile of dishes in the sink, flies buzzing around them, and made note not to come here again if I could. Ride or not, this was seriously gross.
Grandpa opened the fridge with a slight clatter, pulling out a slice of cake, and placing it before me. Surprisingly, it looked fresh, not to mention delicious. Wasn’t almost any kid’s weak spot sweets?
As soon as he handed me a fork I dug in without a word, and left him to grab whatever he needed.
Darkness. I blinked a few times, trying to adjust.
Where was I? What happened?
I felt so sleepy, so drained, and sort of…heavy?
I was definitely lying down on hard flooring, something like concrete maybe, and was wrapped in a blanket.
I remembered the cake, and nothing else. There was no light wherever I was, no windows.
It felt so hard to move. As I began to shift my whole body felt…strange, different somehow. I couldn’t place the feeling with anything I had felt before.
I managed to sit up, my eyes beginning to grow accustomed to the darkness. The blanket fell from me, and I let it. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t quite hot either…it was just…nothing.
The blanket looked dark and damp, but I could barely tell. It looked old and I decided I didn’t want to touch some moldy old blanket any more than I had.
I stood, wobbly. The floor seemed rough, but I still couldn’t tell. It was like my fingers were asleep. I held them up to my face, but I couldn’t see more than dark blobs before my face.
Honestly my whole body felt asleep. Little pinpricks at best, and not much else.
I grasped in the air for anything, finally tripping over stairs. Was I in the basement?
“Grandpa?†I croaked, hoarse. I felt so thirsty. I tried again, louder, “Grandpa?â€
I heard footsteps above me and the basement door creaked open, the light blinding me. I waved my hands wildly, stunned.
“You’re awake. Do you like your haircut?â€
“Huh?†I managed, confused, “What?â€
“Your haircut, remember, haven’t you seen?â€
“What are you talking about?†I scowled, still blinking.
I was suddenly guided to sit in a chair, barely feeling the ghost of a hand on my shoulder.
“You must see, it’s such a wonderful job, really, you must see!â€
My gut churned. The way he said it, so full of glee. Almost crazed, delirious, I dreaded to see the bowl cut he may have given me.
When I opened my eyes I screamed.
My grandfather held me down so I couldn’t move, couldn’t run, though I don’t think I could if I tried. My legs would have given out. I felt bile in my throat and I realized it was the first thing that felt real to me. Everything else, the blanket, the floor, his hand on my shoulder, had been distant, fleeting, barely even there at all, something from another world entirely.
My skin was gone.
Every scrap, every nerve ending, clean cut, just a form of muscle and sinew moving as I screamed and screamed.
I realized why he wasn’t allowed to be surgeon or even cut hair, and what my mother had tried to say before the static had cut in, “Don’t let him cut your hair. He won’t know when to stop.â€


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