I'm Emily, and I was the kind of girl who adored my long hair. It was my pride and joy, reaching all the way down to my waist in soft, golden waves. Growing up in Ridgeway, the legends of Ethan the Hair Hunter had always been whispered around, but I never paid much attention. It was just a story, right? Something parents used to scare their children into cutting their hair short.
I never believed in any of it. Not until the day I lost my best friend.
It was a warm summer day when it all started. My best friend, Claire, and I had gone out to the old forest just on the outskirts of town, the one everyone said was haunted. Claire was one of the prettiest girls I knew—her hair was long and silky, almost as long as mine. We had always loved playing around in the woods, taking photos, and laughing at the stupid ghost stories our parents told us.
That day, though, something was different. The air felt thick, and the trees seemed to close in around us, their branches twisting like claws. But Claire, being the carefree girl she was, ignored the strange feeling. She was too busy taking selfies, her hair flowing in the breeze.
"Come on, Em, let's go deeper into the woods!" she said, smiling brightly. I hesitated for a second but followed her. She was always the brave one, and I didn't want to seem like a scared little kid.
As we wandered deeper, Claire found an old, abandoned well, its stones covered in moss. She leaned over, peering into the darkness below. "Maybe we'll find some treasure down there," she joked, laughing as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. But then, the wind picked up, and something strange happened.
Claire's hair seemed to move unnaturally, as if being pulled toward the well. She screamed, grabbing at it, but it was like the wind had taken control of her hair, yanking her toward the dark, gaping hole. I rushed forward, grabbing her arm and pulling as hard as I could. For a brief moment, we both struggled against the invisible force, her hair whipping around like it was alive.
"Emily! Help me!" Claire cried, tears streaming down her face.
I pulled with all my strength, but it was no use. Her hair twisted and coiled, wrapping around her neck, her arms, her legs, like it was trying to drag her into the earth. With one final, gut-wrenching scream, Claire disappeared into the well, her hair the last thing I saw before she was gone.
I stood there, frozen, my heart pounding in my chest. I waited for her to climb out, to tell me it was all a joke. But she never did.
That night, I couldn't sleep. My parents tried to comfort me, saying Claire must have fallen into the well, that it was just an accident. But I knew better. Something had taken her—something evil, something connected to the legend of Ethan the Hair Hunter.
The days that followed were a blur of police searches and endless questions. No one could find Claire's body, and soon, the town started whispering about the legend again. Girls with long hair were warned to cut it short, just like in the stories. But I didn't want to believe it. I refused to cut my hair. It was all I had left, the one thing that connected me to Claire.
But then the dreams started.
Every night, I saw him—Ethan. His face was pale, his eyes dark and hollow, and his hair… his hair was long and tangled, just like Claire's had been. In the dreams, he was always reaching for me, his fingers brushing against my hair, whispering my name. "Emily… Emily… you're next."
I woke up in a cold sweat every time, clutching at my hair, terrified that I would feel it moving on its own.
But the worst part? I started seeing him when I was awake.
It began with small glimpses—his reflection in the mirror, standing at the foot of my bed, or out of the corner of my eye when I walked through town. I tried to tell myself it wasn't real, that it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. But deep down, I knew the truth. Ethan was coming for me. He wanted my hair, just like he had taken Claire's.
A week after Claire disappeared, I started hearing the whispers. They came at night, when the house was quiet, just as I was falling asleep. At first, I thought it was the wind, but then I heard it clearer.
"Emily… give me your hair…"
I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to block it out, but the whispers kept coming, growing louder and more insistent. The air in my room felt thick, like it was closing in on me. And then, I felt it—something cold brushing against my hair.
I bolted out of bed, heart racing, and ran to my parents' room. I told them everything, but they didn't believe me. They thought I was just having nightmares because of what had happened to Claire. But I knew. Ethan was real, and he was getting closer.
The next day, I made a decision. I couldn't keep living in fear, waiting for Ethan to take me like he had taken Claire. I had to do something. That's when I remembered the story—the legend that Ethan's spirit only took girls with long hair, that he couldn't rest until he had claimed them.
What if I cut my hair?
I didn't want to do it. My hair was everything to me, but I couldn't bear the thought of ending up like Claire. So, I called my other best friend, Lily, over to my house. She had long hair too, and I was worried that Ethan might come after her next.
When Lily arrived, I told her everything. She listened quietly, her eyes wide with fear, but she didn't laugh at me or tell me I was crazy. She believed me.
"We have to cut it," I said, grabbing a pair of scissors from my desk. "It's the only way to stop him."
Lily hesitated, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. "But… what if it doesn't work?"
I didn't have an answer for her. All I knew was that I couldn't take the risk. So, with shaking hands, I cut off my hair. I watched as the golden strands fell to the floor, feeling a strange mix of relief and sadness. Lily followed suit, cutting off her own hair, her eyes filled with tears.
We stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the piles of hair on the ground. It felt like we had just cut off a part of ourselves, but at least we were safe now.
Or so we thought.
That night, I went to bed feeling lighter, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. But just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard it again.
"Emily…"
I sat up in bed, heart pounding. The room was dark, but I could feel it—his presence. Ethan was here.
I scrambled out of bed, but before I could make it to the door, I felt something cold wrap around my ankle. I looked down, and my blood ran cold.
Hair. Long, black strands of hair were wrapping around my legs, pulling me back toward the bed. I screamed, but no sound came out. The hair tightened, dragging me down, and then I saw him.
Ethan was standing at the foot of my bed, his long hair flowing around him like a dark cloud. His eyes were empty, but his lips twisted into a cruel smile.
"You thought you could escape me?" he whispered, his voice like a cold wind. "You can't run from me, Emily. I will always find you."
I struggled against the hair, but it was no use. It was too strong. I felt it tightening around my throat, cutting off my air. This was it. This was how I was going to die.
But then, just as I was about to lose consciousness, something happened. The hair loosened, and I heard a soft voice.
"Ethan, stop."
I looked up, and there, standing beside Ethan, was Claire. She was glowing, her long hair flowing around her like a halo. She reached out to Ethan, her eyes full of sadness.
"Let them go, Ethan. It's time to stop."
Ethan stared at her, his expression softening. "Claire… I'm sorry."
She smiled at him, taking his hand. "It's okay. You don't have to do this anymore. We can go together."
Ethan nodded, his eyes filling with tears. Slowly, the hair unraveled from my body, and I collapsed to the floor, gasping for air. I watched as Claire led Ethan away, their forms growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared into the light.
And just like that, it was over.
Ethan was gone, and Claire had saved me. The curse was finally broken.