Contemporary story
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David's Haircut

When David steps out of the front door he is blinded for a moment by the white, fizzing sunlight and reaches instinctively for his dad's hand.

It's the first really warm day of the year, an unexpected heat that bridges the cusp between spring and summer. Father and son are on their way to the barbershop, something they have always done together.

Always, the routine is the same. "It's about time we got that mop of yours cut," David's dad will say, pointing at him with two fingers, a cigarette wedged between them. "Perhaps I should do it. Where are those shears Janet?"

Sometimes his dad chases him round the living room, pretending to cut off his ears. When he was young David used to get too excited and start crying, scared that maybe he really would lose his ears, but he has long since grown out of that.

Mr Samuels' barbershop is in a long room above the chip shop, reached by a steep flight of stairs. There is a groove worn in each step by the men who climb and descend in a regular stream. David follows his father, annoyed that he cannot make each step creak like his old man can.

David loves the barbershop - it's like nowhere else he goes. It smells of cigarettes and men and hair oil. Sometimes the smell of chips will climb the stairs along with a customer and when the door opens the waiting men lift their noses together.

Black and white photographs of men with various out-of-fashion hairstyles hang above a picture rail at the end of the room, where two barber's chairs are bolted to the floor. They are heavy, old-fashioned chairs with foot pumps that hiss and chatter as Mr Samuels, the rolls of his plump neck squashing slightly, adjusts the height of the seat.

In front of the chairs are deep sinks with a showerhead and long metal hose attached to the taps, not that anyone seems to use them. Behind the sinks are mirrors and on either side of these, shelves overflowing with an mixture of plastic combs (some plunged into a glass bowl containing a blue liquid), shaving mugs, scissors, cut throat razors, hair brushes and, stacked neatly in a pyramid, 10 bright red tubs of Brylcreem.

At the back of the room sit the customers, silent for most of the time, except when Mr Samuels breaks off from cutting and takes a drag on his cigarette, sending a wisp of grey-blue smoke like the tail of kite twisting into the air.

When it is David's turn for a cut, Mr Samuels places a wooden board covered with a piece of oxblood red leather across the arms of the chair, so that the barber doesn't have to stoop to cut the boy's hair. David scrambles up onto the bench.

"The rate you're shooting up, you won't need this soon, you'll be sat in the chair," the barber says.

"Wow," says David, squirming round to look at his dad, forgetting that he can see him through the mirror. "Dad, Mr Samuels said I could be sitting in the chair soon, not just on the board!"

"So I hear," his father replies, not looking up from the paper. "I expect Mr Samuels will start charging me more for your hair then."

"At least double the price," said Mr Samuels, winking at David.

Finally David's dad looks up from his newspaper and glances into the mirror, seeing his son looking back at him. He smiles.

←2

"Wasn't so long ago when I had to lift you onto that board because you couldn't climb up there yourself," he says.

"They don't stay young for long do they, kids," Mr Samuels declares. All the men in the shop nod in agreement. David nods too.

In the mirror he sees a little head sticking out of a long nylon cape that Mr Samuels has swirled around him and folded into his collar with a wedge of cotton wool. Occasionally he steals glances at the barber as he works. He smells a mixture of stale sweat and aftershave as the barber's moves around him, combing and snipping, combing and snipping.

David feels like he is in another world, noiseless except for the scuffing of the barber's shoes on the lino and the snap of his scissors. In the reflection from the window he could see through the window, a few small clouds moved slowly through the frame, moving to the sound of the scissors' click.

Sleepily, his eyes dropping to the front of the cape where his hair falls with the same softness as snow and he imagines sitting in the chair just like the men and older boys, the special bench left leaning against the wall in the corner.

He thinks about the picture book of bible stories his aunt gave him for Christmas, the one of Samson having his hair cut by Delilah. David wonders if his strength will go like Samson's.

When Mr Samuels has finished, David hops down from the seat, rubbing the itchy hair from his face. Looking down he sees his own thick, blonde hair scattered among the browns, greys and blacks of the men who have sat in the chair before him. For a moment he wants to reach down and gather up the broken blonde locks, to separate them from the others, but he does not have time.

 

The sun is still strong when they reach the pavement outside the shop, but it is less fiery now, already beginning to drop from its zenith.

"I tell you what, lad, let's get some fish and chips to take home, save your mum from cooking tea," says David's dad and turns up the street.

The youngster is excited and grabs his dad's hand. The thick-skinned fingers close gently around his and David is surprised to find, warming in his father's palm, a lock of his own hair.

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Average: 2.5 (4 votes)

Comments

Submitted by admin on Wed, 02/18/2004 - 20:41

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Nice descriptions! Such wonderful language used. it really portrays the love between a dad and a son. it also acts as a gental reminder to everyone, that childhood is short. we must appreciate it when we can.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 04/04/2004 - 07:46

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This story took me back to having my hair cut as a child, invoking memories in my mind that I didnt know I still had, especially sitting on a board. Youve taken something quite ordinary and described it so well. I really enjoyed it.

Submitted by admin on Mon, 04/05/2004 - 18:10

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Good story, Ken. You kept my attention from beginning to end. Makes me remember when I was a tot and had my hair cut. You have a wonderful imagination which is fresh and clear and honest. A most pleasing read for sure, David!

Submitted by admin on Mon, 07/05/2004 - 19:31

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As a seventy-year-old ex- teacher, I loved this story. I, too, thought it a nice little piece of descriptive writing about a young boys trip to the barber with hiss dad -- until that wonderful "kicker" at the end, which wonderfully reveals the fathers TRUE depth of feeling about his son -- and his growing up. Very good work. Cliff B.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 01/02/2005 - 02:06

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I thought it was a brilliantly described piece that wasnt over the top. I must disagree that there is lack of characterisation, because with just a few words about the father and the childs behaviour reflecting his naive views, Elkes painted a vivid picture of his characters that lifted my heart. I would recommend this story to anyone, particularly younger readers, as it is an easy read, but also readers who have come of age can appreciate this on an empathetic level. Well done!

Submitted by admin on Tue, 01/25/2005 - 11:10

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Dear Ken I enjoyed the visual imagery and feeling of intimacy in this story. Your last line really grabbed me. This is my favourite type of story to read, simple yet it takes you to another place in time. My husband and I are expecting our first child in May 2005, a son, and I will send this story to my husband so that he can relate to this story about a fathers love for his son. Thanks Ken, I look forward to reading your next story.

Submitted by admin on Sat, 02/12/2005 - 10:40

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An excellent piece of writing - it encapsulated the deep feelings that fathers so often find it hard to express towards their children -particularly sons I think -without being slushy or sentimental. Thank you Ken.

Submitted by admin on Sat, 03/12/2005 - 13:14

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A lovely story, Ken. It could be even better, though, if youd stayed firmly in Davids head. Phrases like Black and white photographs of men with various out-of-fashion hairstyles are authorspeak (as David is far too young to recognise such details) and therefore intrude. Otherwise it was great! :-)

Submitted by admin on Wed, 05/11/2005 - 20:24

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I thought this was a great descriptive piece. I liked how you managed to keep the story realistic- ex. David and the creaking stairs, the conversations in the barbershop. Though you didnt have much of a plot, you still showed how precious youth is. I can really connect. Keep up the good work

Submitted by admin on Sun, 09/11/2005 - 02:40

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I love this piece of writing. Thank you, Ken, for sharing with us the warmth. I dont care whether it has conflicts, solution, or whatever. What matters is it touches my heart, with all the descriptive details. I hope I could use it in my classroom. I teach english in China. -----J.L.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 10/05/2005 - 22:47

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Interesting, but not exactly enjoyable. The story seems to be lacking point, and the constant change of tense confused me. All together I would say this is a "cute" story, but leave it at that. Thank you. P.S. Thanks to Mr.Ellinger for telling the class about this site!

Submitted by admin on Fri, 09/22/2006 - 12:17

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I agree with the above poster, that there was conflict in this story. Everyday life events are filled with conflict, as portrayed in the conflict of a child wanting to grow up and a father wanting his son to stay a child a bit longer. The story evokes emotion, and that is the key for me. Well done.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 03/14/2007 - 22:21

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a great read. very touching and reminiscent of past times with my own father figure. its simple and almost traditional happenings have a deeper meaning that touch the soul and provide us with an uplifting sense of being an elder.

Submitted by admin on Fri, 05/11/2007 - 19:17

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Waffle? If thats what you call it, I think its considerable good waffle! I liked the story, though I wasnt quite jumping out of my seat. It was sweet- two sugars in my coffee. Though Im not exactly sure why, I liked that the father smoked. Perhaps its because it gave me the impression that he was not absolutely ideal. Kudos to you, Ken.

Submitted by admin on Mon, 03/24/2008 - 12:23

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I also like this story, though I agree with some parts feeling a bit forced in their description. And the thing is, this author can clearly write. What doesnt come out forced flows out practically effortless. It seems like he just needs to excercise slightly more control to keep from overdoing it.

I liked the following line:
"Sometimes the smell of chips will climb the stairs along with a customer and when the door opens the waiting men lift their noses together. "

But these two lines, especially, felt out of place to me (even without the grammatical errors). Lines like these pull me back out of the story and into myself again. They make me conscious that Im reading instead of enjoying the story that Im reading.
"At the back of the room sit the customers, silent for most of the time, except when Mr Samuels breaks off from cutting and takes a drag on his cigarette, sending a wisp of grey-blue smoke like the tail of kite twisting into the air." and
"In the reflection from the window he could see through the window, a few small clouds moved slowly through the frame, moving to the sound of the scissors click."

I guess I just felt like the smoke description was unnecessary and too generic, breaks into the meat of the story, and as to the other, I just cant imagine clouds moving to the snip of scissors... just not the right sound effect.

The last line of this story I loved! I was expecting this story to be short and sort of simple, but that last line just knocked me out. Im not really sure why its just so exquisite, but the simplicity in which its delivered just devoured me completely.

Wonderful job! Id read other stories by you!

Submitted by admin on Mon, 12/08/2008 - 03:01

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Beautiful

Submitted by admin on Mon, 08/09/2010 - 19:43

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SOLID

Submitted by admin on Sat, 08/28/2010 - 10:45

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You have captured the atmosphere of long-ago barbershops so well, I was transported to my own childhood...my dad always took me to this shop beside a bookstore. The bribe for agreeing to get my hair cut short was always a book I could choose...my reading / writing habit was nurtured there.
loved your story; thanks for posting it!

Submitted by admin on Fri, 02/18/2011 - 07:56

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A beautiful little gem of a short story. I love descriptive pieces. They serve to paint the whole picture. I think that words should be used in this way. They bring colour, smell, sound and a real dimension to the scene set. It was warm and nostalgic with that poignant ending. Perfect. I think some of the comments here lend themselves too seriously to a clinical approach towards grammar and structure, etc. Just enjoy if for what it is, a lovely little cameo. Ive passed this on to family and friends to read. Well done Ken

Submitted by admin on Wed, 05/25/2011 - 15:15

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Well, I thought it was basically a practice session for descriptive writing. As such, it was fairly well done, other than tense changes and grammatical mistakes. The ending seemed to me to be a last ditch effort to turn a story that was going nowhere into an actual short story piece. It was as though the ending was tacked onto a brainstorming writing exercise for description and detail. Of course, the fact that this website looks at about half a million submissions a month, and this one was accepted, means that it cant be as bad as all that.
Dan ~ Texas

Submitted by admin on Fri, 02/27/2015 - 17:15

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beautiful!

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