Black hair

Water, Lucy tries to change her hair to look like her idol, Marilyn Monroe. In turn she is erasing of trying to get rid of her natural hair which was given to her from her ancestors and it apart of her culture. This is best shown when Tecumseh thinks " Lum says Lucy wants to be Marilyn Monroe because no one gives a damn about Indians but everybody likes blondes. Even Indians." (King,23). This quotation shows that the people of Truth realize that Lucy is changing her hair to look like Marilyn…

we could all go over the plan, we were totally ready. We had all gained each others trust and friendship, we knew we were in this deep. We were sent back inside to the lunch room, then back to the cells where Bram handed us all our suits and some hair ties since female prison guards were never a thing. Dara had the stolen key in hand, Sidney reminded us all what we were too do.…

above the rest of my self-realizations. I sit in the black cushy chair, my eyes closed. My dad had already said something along the lines of “hell no” and my mom had disapproved of the idea entirely. But here I was. The fear of my parents was only slightly over come by the desire to do something for myself, two feelings that would grow side by side for several more years of my life. The stylist ran her hand through all fourteen inches of my hair. “How short?” she asked me, her eyes meeting mine…

Faine dismounted and approached the man calling himself Azure Snake. “My lord has asked you to stand aside and by not honoring his request, you have shown him disrespect, because of this, you will suffer.” “You hear that boys. We’re going to suffer.“ Nervous laughter broke out from the gang members. Without warning the man with the eyepatch swung his fist at Faine but he grabbed the man’s hand, forcing him to drop to his knees. Groaning, the bandit demanded his release. “Oh, you wish for me…

driveway leading to a small two level cottage splattered with colorful lights and icy silt. Three figures slowly open their doors and step onto the frosty gravel. The first is a man no older than forty. White stubble splatters his face and his black hair moves in the frosty winds, his height resembles a small spruce tree that is newly planted, tall but lanky. As the wind blows snow into his chiseled face his blue eyes shine in contrast.…

out to her, “I’m ready for school mum!” She is getting on her usual black tennis shoes, and walks towards the wall mirror and straightens her back. She looks closely at herself, yet notices a tiny hair on her black cotton sweatshirt, she slowly plucks it off…

My mother drove me to the airport, the windows rolled down and the 75 degree air mixing in the car. I was wearing a white sleeveless shirt and a pair of light blue shorts. I had a small jacket in my bag for when I got off the plane, some books and my small iPod. I was moving to Forks; a small town in the north part of Washington state. I haven’t been there in years, not since I was 13 to be exact. It was the town where my dad (Charlie) lived, I used to spend summers with him, but I haven’t in…

her second mother, though her happiness had dwindled the more she grew, her birth mother pulling away and neglecting the girl more and more. "You 'll understand when you are older.." Her mother Teresa said, a pretty woman, black eyes, deep olive colored skin, long black hair, beautiful told her. "...I know you don 't understand why she is pulling around but listen to this Rah. It isn 't you. It was never you, it 's not your fault. Don 't ever hate her for mistreating you." Raneem had listened…

cry but she told me if I didn’t cry, I would get a surprise. So I held my tears and I was determined to get my surprise. All of my unknown classmates lined up and I followed along. I tried to see what my teacher looked like but I only saw her wavy black hair. My mom stood by me the whole time thankfully because I would have been freaking out. The line started moving and we came inside into the classroom. We sat down on the floor and I looked at who was my teacher and I was relieved that I didn’t…

people consider high school years the best years of your life, that is because I think that it is such an improvement from middle school. There is also not a specific reason that middle school is so terrible. It may be the discovery of highlights or black eyeliner or it may be the longing to be in high school. Or the start of puberty, usually when boys turn into bigger jerks, or it may just be the general despair from your most recent heartbreak but, in any case, middle school is just the…