The warm water enveloped Arthur, a sigh escaping his lips. After a long day battling the Cornish winds, a soak was just what he needed. He settled deeper into the tub, the lavender-scented bubbles tickling his nose. A contented smile spread across his face.
He’d noticed a few stray hairs clinging to the enamel, long and dark, but dismissed them as remnants from Anya’s last bath. He’d meant to clean it properly, but the lure of the hot water had been too strong. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth soothe his tired muscles.
A faint, almost imperceptible tugging sensation tickled his ankle. He opened his eyes, glancing down. Nothing. He shrugged, attributing it to the swirling bubbles. But the tugging returned, stronger this time, a definite pull. He frowned, running his hand along his leg.
His fingers brushed against something slick and cold. Hair. More hair than he’d seen before, coiling around his ankle like a living thing. He tried to pull away, but the hair tightened, its grip surprisingly strong. Panic started to rise in his chest.
He looked down, and the water seemed to darken, the bubbles swirling into a murky, oily vortex. The long, dark strands of hair pulsed beneath the surface, weaving together, thickening. They were not just on his ankle now, they were snaking around his legs, his torso, his arms.
He screamed, a choked, gurgling sound as the hair pulled him deeper into the water. He thrashed, trying to break free, but the hair was impossibly strong, like wet, living rope. He could feel it wrapping around his neck, tightening, cutting off his air.
The water churned, a dark, swirling mass of hair and bubbles. He could see a pale, indistinct face in the depths, a woman’s face, with eyes as black as the hair that bound him. Her mouth was open, a silent scream echoing in the water.
He was being pulled down, down into the cold, dark depths of the bath, the hair dragging him into the oblivion beneath. The last thing he felt was the icy grip of the water, and the crushing pressure of the hair, before the darkness consumed him. The lavender smell of the bubbles was replaced with the smell of wet hair and something else, something ancient and cold. The bath water slowly returned to still, a few stray dark hairs floating on the surface, the only evidence of what had just occurred.
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