-Justice Trim

[Words to Image. A random picture, a quick random story. Something different]

Every day at noon, Polly ventured out to the middle of town to visit Haircut, as the town's folk called it. Haircut was a twenty-five-foot guillotine rudimentarily constructed from old lumber and refurbished nails. The town's people had decided that a deterrent was needed to cut down on the recent surge of lawlessness, so every abled man volunteered their services to erect this reason to stay in line. Every law-abiding able man, that is. Despite the rough, raw exterior of this tower of death, its presence was effective. Years had passed without a need to summon a posse and raise the blade. Its cobwebs had now filled with dust and tumbleweeds, blown in from the dirt streets. Its blade was still virgin, having never severed a single head.

Polly played around Haircut. She would toss a ball to its peak and run around to catch it after it bounced and fell to the other side. Years of playful time together created an unnatural bond between the two. It had become her only friend.

One day, curiosity got the better of her. She had to know what it felt like to place her head between the boards. She lifted the upper board and lowered herself down onto the lower until her neck met splinters. With every thud of the two meeting came hysterical laughter. Day after day after day the thuds echoed through town. She would cry out, pretending to beg for mercy.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do it. I won't do it again. Please don't pull the lever."

She taunted passer Byers, toying with them as they just shook their heads and walked away. Occasionally, other young children would sit and stare at her, teasing, promising to pull that lever. But none ever did. They knew better.

"DO IT!" she would yell at them, almost begging.

Eventually, her antics became common place. People noticed less, cared less. 'That's just Polly, at it again,' was the norm.

And then one day, a stranger ventured into town and sat down nearby to 'ol Haicut, watching as Polly begged for mercy. She had gathered several human skulls and placed them underneath for theatrics. The stranger stood and walked over to her, curious.

"What in the hell are you do'n, girl?"

"I'm preparing to die. I have been found guilty a of a heinous crime, and my punishment is a haircut."

The stranger stared up at the tarnished silver blade and back down at her. Despite the rickety condition of the structure, it was still capable of completing its first shoulder trim.

"You do know that that blade up there can actually cut your head off, right?"

"I know, but I've been playing here for years, and it's always held. Besides, no one would ever pull the lever."

The stranger focused on the dirty lever and placed his hand on it.

"This one, right here?" he asked.

It's surprised Polly. She had never seen anyone touch it since the day it was erected. She quickly convinced herself that this no name individual was as harmless as the rest of the town's folks. So, she played along.

"No, mister. I am innocent. Please don't pull that lever. I want to live."

The stranger glanced down at the three human skulls and asked, "Were they innocent, too?"

Polly raised her head and stared at the stranger. Her playful demeanor blackened. She sighed.

"No. They wouldn't play with me. So now they have to sit and watch me play. They should have played with me."

Polly stared right through this stranger, piercing him with something evil behind her eyes.

She glanced down at the three skulls and screamed, "YOU SHOULD HAVE PLAYED WITH ME!"

She returned her focus to the stranger whose hand still rested on the lever. Their eyes locked and silence held. The seconds ticked away unto Polly broke into smile.

"Do you want to know what I call them?" she asked. "Number 1, Number 2, and Number 3."

Her head bounced side to side which each count. The stranger sighed, heavily, smiled through pain filled lips, and squinted both eyes.

"No. Ricky, Bobby, and Clint. They were my boys."

The town's people had decided that a deterrent was needed to cut down on the surge of lawlessness. Haircut made its first that day.