A Close Shave

flash fiction about obsession

A Close Shave

 

By

 

Linda White

 

            Brendan Davis had always been a natty individual.  Even as a child, he had preferred to sit quietly and read or maybe colour.  He wasn’t rough and ready and he abhorred dirt.  He found other children incomprehensible.

            His solitary way bothered his parents who were quite gregarious.  It was after the fiasco of his sixth birthday that his pretty, sociable mother gave up.  The other children had run and screamed as they followed the clues to the treasure.  They had gobbled down snacks, slurped pop and massacred the cake.  Brendan had been above it all.  Silent and aloof, his mother could coax him to the table and that was it.  No blowing out candles, no making wishes, no giggling over girlfriends.  He watched the other kids with a pained expression before going back to his book.

            A solitary child grew into a solitary man.  Brendan made a good living as an accountant for a large law firm and the best part was that as long as he took care of the books and payroll and investments, he seldom had to see another individual.

            Brendan’s concern with hygiene grew rather than diminished.  He kept his hair short, a bristly covering that was gradually turning white.  He showered twice a day; more often if it was hot.  And he began to obsess about his age.  First it was the grey hair and then the renegade eyebrow hairs that sprang with wiry abandon almost overnight.  Even his nose hair seemed darker and coarser.  He could have dealt with these changes but it was his whiskers that he watched with real dismay.

            He would shave carefully in the morning, following every contour of his face, even soaping and re-shaving.  Still by noon, he could feel the rasp of stubborn stubble.  And the nasty look of little salt and pepper dots all over his cheeks and chin caused him no end of anguish, reminding him of the adolescent blackheads and zits that had plagued his contemporaries but blessedly missed him. He considered letting the whiskers grow until they were long enough for him to grasp with tweezers.  One day he even went until 3:00 without shaving but- no!

            He couldn’t stand the sandpapery feel, the ugly grossness and so he grabbed the razor and forgoing shaving soap he scraped at his skin without even looking in the mirror.  Blood dripped from his chin into the sink and when he looked at his image, the bright red gouts stained his cheeks with fire.  It kind of burned, but after burning, there is always a cleansing, a purification.

            Brendan stood transfixed and then tentatively dragged the razor over a patch he had missed.  There was a satisfying scccccccritttcchhhhhh as the stubble surrendered to the blade.  Another layer of skin scoured off and more crimson blood bubbled to the surface.  He watched as the blood curdled, thickened and clotted to a dark red-black.

            “Wait, Brendan,” he muttered, resisting the urge to feel his face.  After a couple of minutes, he was compelled to timidly touch the surface of the blackened blood.  He had feared it would be sticky, gooey, even.  But no.  It felt smooth and slightly slippery almost like plastic.

            A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth but the pull of the clotted, blood reminded him to hold his face still.  There was no need to crack open the beautiful surface that was forming where once the hated whiskers had grown.  He turned from side to side admiring his handiwork.  The neck was a problem but Brendan liked problems and as he reached for his razor once more he could hear his mother saying, “There’s nothing wrong with a nice, clean scab.”

           

           

Reviews

[Robert Nicholls]

Woah. Bravo. Very dark, and almost twisted at the end, yet a surprising feeling of happiness for the character at the end. This story was very well done. I do believe the ending was a bit too short when compared with the setup of the tale, but all in all, not a bad read at all!

[SkinlessFrank]

You've captured the feeling of shaving a beard to a tee. Funny given that I''m assuming you don't shave your face. Now of the character, Brendan, quite an odd fellow. I suppose that a suicide fits him, but it would be interesting to see a bit more into his motivations. All in all, a clean and pleasurable read

[Harmonica winds]

So very nice set up and layed out. I enjoyed this write so much I agree with the review below. Awesome write