When Carla took her six-year-old daughter, Sofia, to the local hair salon, she never expected the day to turn into something neither of them would ever forget. It was a usual trip, a chance for Sofia to feel a little grown-up as she climbed into the salon chair, a big smile spreading across her face. Carla, sitting nearby, smiled too, watching her daughter chat away with the friendly barber, Emily.
Emily had been cutting hair for years and was known for her gentle hands and warm demeanor. “Alright, Sofia,” she said, “take a seat and we’ll get you all cleaned up.”
Sofia slid into the chair, her long brown curls falling over her shoulders. As Emily picked up the comb and gently started to detangle the hair, something unusual caught her eye. She paused, frowning slightly, and leaned in closer. At first, she thought it was a trick of the light, but no—something was definitely not right.
As she parted the curls and carefully pulled the comb through, she gasped. Carla, who had been flipping through a magazine, looked up at the sudden change in the atmosphere. “Is everything okay?” she asked, noticing Emily’s pale face.
“I—” Emily’s voice faltered. She looked at Sofia, who was unaware of the tension building in the room. “I think you should see this.”
Carla rushed over, her heart racing, but when she leaned in closer, she froze. Hidden within Sofia’s thick hair, tangled among the curls, was something strange. It looked like… a tiny, delicate piece of string, but as Emily tugged at it with care, the object revealed itself: a small, intricately folded piece of paper.
“What is that?” Carla whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
With trembling hands, she pulled the paper from Sofia’s hair, unfolding it carefully. The words were written in a language Carla didn’t recognize, but the paper was unmistakably old, yellowing at the edges as if it had been hidden there for years.
Suddenly, the air in the salon seemed to grow heavier, and a chill ran down Carla’s spine.
Emily, sensing Carla’s discomfort, took a step back. “Maybe we should stop for today,” she suggested, her voice low.
But it was too late. Sofia, looking up at her mother, smiled innocently, “What’s that, Mommy?”
As Carla held the paper, her mind raced. What was this thing doing in her daughter’s hair? And why hadn’t she noticed it before?
The answer to that question would soon lead them both into a mystery far beyond anything they could have ever imagined.