Bernard’s Barbers made an extremely modest business on the side of a run down town in the middle of nowhere that never really showed up on a map. Bernard worked alone and had the same eight regulars in and a handful of irregulars to spice things up. Profit just about kept the business open, but barely.
It was a quiet, slow day as most days were, when the bearded stranger in ragged clothes walked in.
“Hey, can I get uh…” The man seemed uncertain, skittish, “a shave? And my hair fixed. I guess.”
Bernard nodded and gestured to a chair, going to collect his tools.
The man settled himself down, fidgeting with his hands. Bernard wrapped the black cape around him and pinned it nearly at the back, ensuring no gaps could allow hair to fall astray. The man was stiff beneath Bernard’s hands and he wondered if it was because he was a very large person in comparison to this tiny, twiggish stranger. His size had apparently caused some worry among people in the past, but he forced himself not to worry about it too much. It only made it harder to get on with what he enjoyed.
And he really enjoyed – no; loved – his job.
He chopped the excess beard away and applied a cream diligently to the remaining scruff. The smooth draws of the barber’s knife cleared wiry greying hair to reveal smooth forgotten skin.He slowly cleaned the stranger’s face inch by inch, blade turning and curving over the rises and dips of the stranger’s face. He cleaned the hair like a forest being chopped away leaving hills and valleys smooth. When he was done the stranger already looked decades younger, and he wiped his knives clean and set them aside.
Next part.
He grabbed a brush and tamed the bushy mess down, sprayed it with water to detangle some of the worst parts, and began the shearing. Scissors hacked at clumps and scraggly locks. He chopped away the volume and length until it became manageable enough to begin the fine detail. Fingers for measurement, snip, brush, measure, snip, brush, measure, snip, brush. Spray of water, comb, finger, snip, brush.
He modelled the hair into a neat side-part that shined glossily with a new health.
The sideburns were his masterpiece. Scraped away and formed into perfect faded points either side of the stranger’s cheeks. Trimmer hummed and blade dragged as he made them shape a newer, younger face with revitalised energy.
He brought the back into a perfect neat point and cleaned away stray hairs from the neck, making the skin hidden beneath come up pink.
He rubbed in oils and cream, brought a new life to the stranger’s face, and worked in styling gel that healed the damaged hair and gave it a lively, bouncy tone and a luxurious fragrance. He even took a little time to tidy the stranger’s eyebrows, offended by the marr in what was otherwise a perfect head.
The stranger gazed at him the whole while with wide yet murky eyes.
When he finished he wiped the man’s face clean and brushed him off, casting away lumps of dead hair to the ground. He took the cape off and draped it aside to clean off later, then meticulously wiped away any tiny last hair. He grabbed the mirror and showed the stranger his new cut from different angles.
“Wow… I look totally different. I… I really didn’t think I could ever see myself like this.” The stranger was misty-eyed and voice wobbly.
Bernard set the mirror down and nodded.
“Oh, right, I owe you now. Let’s see, how much?”
Bernard looked up towards the prices board and gestured with his head. The man glanced over and his expression slowly fell.
“Ah. Okay. I don’t… I don’t have that.”
Bernard stared at him.
“I- I have…” The man dug in his pockets, stitched up through the battered trousers and clearly expanded inside to allow him to carry more on his person. “Uh…Half…”
Bernard looked down at the assortment of dirty coins. He was barely managing to keep the business open on full price, let alone half. He could lose the business any day. His prices were definitely too low for the work he put in, for the training he’d done, for his years of practice.
But if he was closing anyway, it made no difference.
He nodded and held a hand out, and the coins were poured into his large palm. The stranger gave him a wide smile – crooked teeth that needed cleaning and straightening – and tears built in the corner of his eyes.
“You’ve changed my life. You really have. I’ll come back and pay the other half, I promise.”
Bernard nodded. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but he held every promise made to him very sternly.
The stranger left and he began to clean up, once again alone in the barber shop.
a place of words 