i like to mess with my hair when i’m not thinking about anything. it wraps itself around my fingers and twists itself into a knot. lost in space, i don’t feel the small strands suffocating my fingertips. i don’t know what else to say. it’s
Allison
The braid fell effortlessly to the floor like a feather in a slight breeze. I wanted to reach down to pick it up, but that would my acquiescence to something much larger than myself. How could I betray the secret that has been kept for generations by women all over the world.
i don’t know the meaning of this word. it remembers me some bread in mind with delicious jam. i am in the mood of eating bread.
laxmi
To make something twist and turn into a beautiful shape, a pattern of wisedom and life. Hidden beneath the cracks are the keys. We must look. Life has given us everything, but we have seperated ourselves. Braiding does not only give itself to hair, but to life and humans in total. We can braid each other to connect in a way we once did when we were focus. When we had a strive. A strive for what? That you must learn dear human, you have 15 minutes. Let the game begin.
Mar
She had a braid on either side of her head, the hair was loose and falling out. She painted furiously, eyes wild, overall shorts hanging by one strap.
She muttered to herself, words that made no sense together.
Numbers spread across all of the walls. An endless stream of seemingly random numbers. And she repeated the.
“74834550793725275554323154499272550382644707595975264906726457924569825289………” on and on.
There was nothing for it.
He took a deep breath and entered the room.
“Pan….Pandora?”
She didn’t hear him and continued to mumble.
“Pandora?” he called hesitantly.
Still her hand flew unfailingly across the wall.
He took another step and she flew around, braids flying.
Her eyes grew wider and wider as the vortex expanded.
Her head tilted and she stared deep into him.
“What are you doing, boy?” he voice layered into the voice of prophecy.
“I’m checking to see if you’re all right, Pandora.” he said slowly
“You know that I am not.” She stated.
“I mean that I was seeing if you…she…you have hurt yourself.”
“I have coped for many centuries on my own. Why would I need you now.”
He took a deep breath, “I’ve always been with you. We’ve never once been apart.”
She stared intensely at him.
He swallowed and continued, slowly getting closer to her, “I’ve always loved you. You’ve always loved me. You need me. I keep you sane. I keep you here. I keep you aware. I keep you…human.”
“You were not a human.”
“In the other sense of the word. Human in that….I give you emotions.” He put his arms around her and hugged her close.
She remained stiff. Then suddenly her arm twitched. Then it twitched again. Suddenly her whole body began to convulse. He sank to the ground holding her tightly against him.
He arms shook, her legs shook, her whole body shook, every fibre of her being shook intensely and he just held her, shushing quietly.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be over soon. Shhh. Don’t worry. I’m here. Don’t let it consume you, remember what’s here. Shhh.”
After what seemed like hours, her body began to slow. The vortex shrank entirely and was swallowed up by her iris.
“Are you okay?” he asked calmly, knowing what would come soon.
She nodded slightly, closed her eyes and stiffened.
A scream rent the air. It seemed as if the sky had been ripped open and the whole world was falling apart.
But then it stopped and there was nothing but a small, scared girl, crying silently and shivering in his arms.
“Thank you.” she whispered and leaned into him as if the closer she got, the less she would remember what she had Seen.
Im in school. My hair is being braided. I have no idea what is happening back there. But it makes me nervous to think if it didn’t turn out good. Because you know hwat I really want to imnpress him. I want him to notice that I did this for him.
Vivian
Little Chinese man, with the longest braid resting along the length of his spine.
I had a braid in my hand but lost it in a sea of land. I went through the woods and found myself holding someone else bloody mouth.
steve
He moved his hand through her braid and it unraveled. He wondered if life was like that too: the smallest motion and it all comes undone, if all it took was one mistake and everything could be lost.
I could feel his breath braiding and intertwining through mine, he was so close. He was leaning in and I wasn’t stopping him.
His eyes weren’t shut. I didn’t know if he was going to kiss me or whisper sweet nothings while I continued to relinquish my tears. All I knew was that I would not stop him.
Not at all.
elinmacrae
He loved her. With all his heart. How was it possible that her hair smelled so good. Like the morning breeze. He could not recall ever having smelled anything just like that.
De Rop
The braid in his hair shown a dark raven black. It hung down to his waist, a symbol of strength and wisdom. He walked with confidence, as if his very soul was contained in that braid. And perhaps it was. It had taken him a lifetime to get where he was, and he was very comfortable within his own skin.
I hated having my hair brushed as a kid. A braid was my insurance against future snarls, it let me forget my hair was following me on my exploits, tattling to my mother’s comb of my exploits.
KT Kent
It swings as she runs. She has always kept her hair in a braid. It is said that when she finally lets it loose, the whole world will pause for a day and contemplate why the sky isn’t orange yet.
Braids. Was a kid having ’em before. Pretty pretty doe-eyed girl. She smiled a lot back then. Now, no more. Sad isn’t it? I think so. Cos that girl’s me.
wani
I never learned how to French braid my hair. Other’s mothers would always send them to school with ornate braids and twists and I was the odd one out, twisting chunks together only to have them form into knots.
He tied the rope into a braid and then slipped the ends through other ends to form the knot and loop that he would wrap around his neck and at the last minute decided that he didn’t want to have to kick away a chair and so he went into the garage and grabbed a ladder climbed a tree and secured the rope around a branch but decided than that he didn’t want to hurt the branches and so he went into his garage and drew up some blueprints and began work on a gibbet with a self-releasing trap door so that he could fall the length of a good standard drop and he decided to do so in his front yard where at first the neighborhood children asked what he was building and then eventually the rest of the neighbors until pretty soon all of the cars in the community would make it a point to go out of their way and drive down his cul de sac to see how the gibbet was progressing and when the day came of its completion the neighbors arraigned chairs all along the front of the yard to watch him finish everything that he had started with what seemed like a very permanent solution and so he climbed the wooden steps he had build and wrapped around his neck the rope he had braided and smiled into the faces of the crowd and said, God it’s all so arbitrary, and kicked the lever and was happy because for once in his very brief life he finally had control of something.
i braid my hair to one side, over my shoulder. but i rarely do this because i feel as if too much of my face is exposed. i braid my hair at night though, so that my curls don’t frizz.
Jaymie
I like braids. I wish they looked a bit better on my head.
I’m not very good at braiding my hair. I’ve tried and tried but, for some reason I’m just a little off each time, and braids aren’t something to be a little off on. HA. Maybe someday I’ll be much better but why are you timing me? why is there a finish line?
brooklyn
Her hair was long and blond, two braided pigtails in it. She hopped and skipped through the school day, having no idea what she was doing to me. The short pleated skirt, the high white cotton socks, the little black mary janes. She sucked on a lollipop and said hello to me in the hallway. What the fuck.
shitty writer.com
hair knotted into intricate desgins to form one large design that will get you compliments throughout the day. Maybe *he* will be the one to compliment you the most. MAybe *he* will ask you out on the date that you’ve been dreaming of your entire life. Just….maybe.
Bri
She sat braiding and rebraiding the same three strands of hair. Her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere as people passed her, some even waving without a response. She continued the pattern of braiding, unbraiding, and braiding yet again as the clouds passed, her gaze remaining on the same tree across the lawn.
i like to braid my hair and feel the wisps float onto my neck. it’s like the whisper of a lover on your collarbone. the tickle of the wind against your ears. its like a nibble of passion and the scintillating wisps of hair raise goosebumps on my neck. i like the feeling of love from three chunks of twisted hair on my neck
Ali
A girl’s hair twisted into a combination of form and function. Cleverly holding the hair from the face, keeping it back and out of the way, all the while keeping it together in a beautiful, simple ensemble.
sam apuna
braid my hair. braid what’s left. braid the news of o’hara’s death. braid the world. braid this zeal. braid the songs of the winter’s peel.
grimbrody
Walking along the bridge hand in hand. My eyes lit up staring into his face. Thinking of his laugh. Our thoughts seemed intertwined. Braided together with joy as i hoped he was thinking the same thing as me.
Ryan Murphy
braid. as in braid hair. or a braided rope. rope. rope is good for things. like tying stuff up. i use rope at work. quite often. when someone picks something up and we have to use rope to tie it in their truck. most people don’t bring rope.
floyd
I sighed at the reflection in my mirror; My braids were finally done; It was a tiring process and I often wished I could chop them off! Short hair was so much cooler. I turned around and see my dad smiling at me with pride. “You look beautiful princess”, he said and once again I faked a smile.
She stood stone still as her mother fussed with her unruly curles. Twisting them this way, tuggin them that way. It was the same everymorning. Wash face, get dressed, get mum to braid hair. Always a braid. Nothing different. She had the feeling her mother would have a heart attack if she asked her to do something different. Once she asked if she could simply have a pony tail instead, and she felt the yank her mother gave her all the way down to her toes. There was something ritualistic about the braid, her mother was obviously attached to it, it was important to her, which was curious, because the only other things that appearedto matter to her mother were booze and men.
Anna
hair hair you braid hair cross country practice he was braiding her hair
long hair
running
hair
braid
braiding your hair makes you more aerodynamic when you run
braiding hair makes it wavy and pretty
There is no easy way to tell someone you stopped caring.
All the while, running your fingers through your hair – twisting strands into a braid, then combing it right back out.
Like the way your relationships seem to unravel, build up, then unravel again.
her braid was thick and soft
red red hairs tightly bond and falling on her shoulder
i imagined myself freeing them
running my hands in her red curls
sweet with the scent of the late summer
and spicy with the first tease of winter
life is amazing
i like to mess with my hair when i’m not thinking about anything. it wraps itself around my fingers and twists itself into a knot. lost in space, i don’t feel the small strands suffocating my fingertips. i don’t know what else to say. it’s
The braid fell effortlessly to the floor like a feather in a slight breeze. I wanted to reach down to pick it up, but that would my acquiescence to something much larger than myself. How could I betray the secret that has been kept for generations by women all over the world.
i don’t know the meaning of this word. it remembers me some bread in mind with delicious jam. i am in the mood of eating bread.
To make something twist and turn into a beautiful shape, a pattern of wisedom and life. Hidden beneath the cracks are the keys. We must look. Life has given us everything, but we have seperated ourselves. Braiding does not only give itself to hair, but to life and humans in total. We can braid each other to connect in a way we once did when we were focus. When we had a strive. A strive for what? That you must learn dear human, you have 15 minutes. Let the game begin.
She had a braid on either side of her head, the hair was loose and falling out. She painted furiously, eyes wild, overall shorts hanging by one strap.
She muttered to herself, words that made no sense together.
Numbers spread across all of the walls. An endless stream of seemingly random numbers. And she repeated the.
“74834550793725275554323154499272550382644707595975264906726457924569825289………” on and on.
There was nothing for it.
He took a deep breath and entered the room.
“Pan….Pandora?”
She didn’t hear him and continued to mumble.
“Pandora?” he called hesitantly.
Still her hand flew unfailingly across the wall.
He took another step and she flew around, braids flying.
Her eyes grew wider and wider as the vortex expanded.
Her head tilted and she stared deep into him.
“What are you doing, boy?” he voice layered into the voice of prophecy.
“I’m checking to see if you’re all right, Pandora.” he said slowly
“You know that I am not.” She stated.
“I mean that I was seeing if you…she…you have hurt yourself.”
“I have coped for many centuries on my own. Why would I need you now.”
He took a deep breath, “I’ve always been with you. We’ve never once been apart.”
She stared intensely at him.
He swallowed and continued, slowly getting closer to her, “I’ve always loved you. You’ve always loved me. You need me. I keep you sane. I keep you here. I keep you aware. I keep you…human.”
“You were not a human.”
“In the other sense of the word. Human in that….I give you emotions.” He put his arms around her and hugged her close.
She remained stiff. Then suddenly her arm twitched. Then it twitched again. Suddenly her whole body began to convulse. He sank to the ground holding her tightly against him.
He arms shook, her legs shook, her whole body shook, every fibre of her being shook intensely and he just held her, shushing quietly.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be over soon. Shhh. Don’t worry. I’m here. Don’t let it consume you, remember what’s here. Shhh.”
After what seemed like hours, her body began to slow. The vortex shrank entirely and was swallowed up by her iris.
“Are you okay?” he asked calmly, knowing what would come soon.
She nodded slightly, closed her eyes and stiffened.
A scream rent the air. It seemed as if the sky had been ripped open and the whole world was falling apart.
But then it stopped and there was nothing but a small, scared girl, crying silently and shivering in his arms.
“Thank you.” she whispered and leaned into him as if the closer she got, the less she would remember what she had Seen.
the lengthing of hair done with beads and palited withxtra hair. africans braid their hair a lot. zig zag parting of the hair. plaiting.
Im in school. My hair is being braided. I have no idea what is happening back there. But it makes me nervous to think if it didn’t turn out good. Because you know hwat I really want to imnpress him. I want him to notice that I did this for him.
Little Chinese man, with the longest braid resting along the length of his spine.
I had a braid in my hand but lost it in a sea of land. I went through the woods and found myself holding someone else bloody mouth.
He moved his hand through her braid and it unraveled. He wondered if life was like that too: the smallest motion and it all comes undone, if all it took was one mistake and everything could be lost.
I could feel his breath braiding and intertwining through mine, he was so close. He was leaning in and I wasn’t stopping him.
His eyes weren’t shut. I didn’t know if he was going to kiss me or whisper sweet nothings while I continued to relinquish my tears. All I knew was that I would not stop him.
Not at all.
He loved her. With all his heart. How was it possible that her hair smelled so good. Like the morning breeze. He could not recall ever having smelled anything just like that.
The braid in his hair shown a dark raven black. It hung down to his waist, a symbol of strength and wisdom. He walked with confidence, as if his very soul was contained in that braid. And perhaps it was. It had taken him a lifetime to get where he was, and he was very comfortable within his own skin.
I hated having my hair brushed as a kid. A braid was my insurance against future snarls, it let me forget my hair was following me on my exploits, tattling to my mother’s comb of my exploits.
It swings as she runs. She has always kept her hair in a braid. It is said that when she finally lets it loose, the whole world will pause for a day and contemplate why the sky isn’t orange yet.
Braids. Was a kid having ’em before. Pretty pretty doe-eyed girl. She smiled a lot back then. Now, no more. Sad isn’t it? I think so. Cos that girl’s me.
I never learned how to French braid my hair. Other’s mothers would always send them to school with ornate braids and twists and I was the odd one out, twisting chunks together only to have them form into knots.
one braid, two braid, three braid four- I don’t wanna be a girl no more.
I don’t wanna wear no make up,
if I had a boy I’d require we break up
He tied the rope into a braid and then slipped the ends through other ends to form the knot and loop that he would wrap around his neck and at the last minute decided that he didn’t want to have to kick away a chair and so he went into the garage and grabbed a ladder climbed a tree and secured the rope around a branch but decided than that he didn’t want to hurt the branches and so he went into his garage and drew up some blueprints and began work on a gibbet with a self-releasing trap door so that he could fall the length of a good standard drop and he decided to do so in his front yard where at first the neighborhood children asked what he was building and then eventually the rest of the neighbors until pretty soon all of the cars in the community would make it a point to go out of their way and drive down his cul de sac to see how the gibbet was progressing and when the day came of its completion the neighbors arraigned chairs all along the front of the yard to watch him finish everything that he had started with what seemed like a very permanent solution and so he climbed the wooden steps he had build and wrapped around his neck the rope he had braided and smiled into the faces of the crowd and said, God it’s all so arbitrary, and kicked the lever and was happy because for once in his very brief life he finally had control of something.
i braid my hair to one side, over my shoulder. but i rarely do this because i feel as if too much of my face is exposed. i braid my hair at night though, so that my curls don’t frizz.
I like braids. I wish they looked a bit better on my head.
I’m not very good at braiding my hair. I’ve tried and tried but, for some reason I’m just a little off each time, and braids aren’t something to be a little off on. HA. Maybe someday I’ll be much better but why are you timing me? why is there a finish line?
Her hair was long and blond, two braided pigtails in it. She hopped and skipped through the school day, having no idea what she was doing to me. The short pleated skirt, the high white cotton socks, the little black mary janes. She sucked on a lollipop and said hello to me in the hallway. What the fuck.
hair knotted into intricate desgins to form one large design that will get you compliments throughout the day. Maybe *he* will be the one to compliment you the most. MAybe *he* will ask you out on the date that you’ve been dreaming of your entire life. Just….maybe.
She sat braiding and rebraiding the same three strands of hair. Her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere as people passed her, some even waving without a response. She continued the pattern of braiding, unbraiding, and braiding yet again as the clouds passed, her gaze remaining on the same tree across the lawn.
Something that is in a pattern to form a “braid” such as hair, rope, and various objects
I remember when my step mom braided my hair and I loved how it was wavy when I took it out. I wanted it done that way all the time!
i like to braid my hair and feel the wisps float onto my neck. it’s like the whisper of a lover on your collarbone. the tickle of the wind against your ears. its like a nibble of passion and the scintillating wisps of hair raise goosebumps on my neck. i like the feeling of love from three chunks of twisted hair on my neck
A girl’s hair twisted into a combination of form and function. Cleverly holding the hair from the face, keeping it back and out of the way, all the while keeping it together in a beautiful, simple ensemble.
braid my hair. braid what’s left. braid the news of o’hara’s death. braid the world. braid this zeal. braid the songs of the winter’s peel.
Walking along the bridge hand in hand. My eyes lit up staring into his face. Thinking of his laugh. Our thoughts seemed intertwined. Braided together with joy as i hoped he was thinking the same thing as me.
braid. as in braid hair. or a braided rope. rope. rope is good for things. like tying stuff up. i use rope at work. quite often. when someone picks something up and we have to use rope to tie it in their truck. most people don’t bring rope.
I sighed at the reflection in my mirror; My braids were finally done; It was a tiring process and I often wished I could chop them off! Short hair was so much cooler. I turned around and see my dad smiling at me with pride. “You look beautiful princess”, he said and once again I faked a smile.
My friend braided my an anklet. It is rainbow colored, and fun to wear and shtuff.
I really like my friendship.
She stood stone still as her mother fussed with her unruly curles. Twisting them this way, tuggin them that way. It was the same everymorning. Wash face, get dressed, get mum to braid hair. Always a braid. Nothing different. She had the feeling her mother would have a heart attack if she asked her to do something different. Once she asked if she could simply have a pony tail instead, and she felt the yank her mother gave her all the way down to her toes. There was something ritualistic about the braid, her mother was obviously attached to it, it was important to her, which was curious, because the only other things that appearedto matter to her mother were booze and men.
hair hair you braid hair cross country practice he was braiding her hair
long hair
running
hair
braid
braiding your hair makes you more aerodynamic when you run
braiding hair makes it wavy and pretty
long hair, french, pretty, pocahontis, indian, hipster, me, feather, native, fishtail.
There is no easy way to tell someone you stopped caring.
All the while, running your fingers through your hair – twisting strands into a braid, then combing it right back out.
Like the way your relationships seem to unravel, build up, then unravel again.
her braid was thick and soft
red red hairs tightly bond and falling on her shoulder
i imagined myself freeing them
running my hands in her red curls
sweet with the scent of the late summer
and spicy with the first tease of winter