Anne Rice - v1, Lasher

She rubbed her hair fiercely one more time and then

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Unformatted text preview: out as if she were Ophelia again, or so she always imagined, floating to her death in the famous stream. She turned her head this way and that to stir her long hair in the water, seeing the swirl of red around her, to get it really clean. She pulled at the bits and pieces of dead leaf. God! One of these could have been a roach! How ghastly. It was this swirling back and forth that made her hair so thick and shining after, the long soak and the turning. A shower would just beat it flat. She loved her hair to be as big and thick as possible. Perfumed soap. Wouldn't you know it? And a bottle of pearly thick shampoo. These people knew how to live. This was like a fine hotel. She washed her hair and body slowly, enjoying every minute of it, lathering gently all over and then sinking down to rinse the soap and shampoo away. Maybe she could somehow restore Amelia Street with- out inviting in all the new brooms of the family. Maybe she could explain to Uncle Michael that things had to be done cautiously and quietly,...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.

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