The wigs were displayed with a reverence usually reserved for bespoke boutiques and she knew that there would be no man made imitation products on sale here.  These wigs were made from human hair, and each one was carefully illuminated to emphasise its texture and natural colour, and mounted on its own individual stand.

  None of the forty or so wigs, each of which was displayed in its own space and which, except for the mahogany and glass topped counter near the door, filled the entire floor area, bore a price tag.

     The shop reeked opulence and eighteen year old Della found herself feeling a little like an intruder, in her department store clothes.  She would never have even come into a shop like this if she hadn’t won the competition; well she’d actually won third prize, a wig of her choice from Doyle & Lamberts.

     The Healthy Hair and Teeth competition had been advertised on a circular that had arrived with the post a few weeks ago.  The competition organisers were offering a first prize of ten thousand pounds to the woman with the healthiest head of hair and teeth.  Since Della had never had a tooth filled and he long lustrous auburn hair caused comment wherever she went, she had decided to enter.  She retrieved three or four of hairs from her hairbrush and put them into the self-seal plastic envelop that was supplied and enclosed a head and shoulders photograph of herself.

     Della had posted them off and promptly forgot all about them until she received a heavily embossed letter from Doyle & Lambert, congratulating her upon being one of the competition winners.  She was invited to visit the shop at her convenience and to select any one of the human hair wigs on display and then hand the letter to the salesperson behind the counter.  Della had rung them and said that she’d be visiting the shop this Friday morning.

     She was examining a beautiful shoulder length wig with hair the colour of gold, when the shop door opened and a man walked in.  He was young and handsome and immaculately dressed and when he smiled at her she felt her pulse race a little.  He could have been a pop star or a movie star, she thought.

     He came over to her and nodded in approval at the wig she was examining.  “It’s an unusual colour,” he said.  “It will be a complete contrast for you.”  He stopped and shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself.  I’m Tony Lambert.  I’m one of the partners,” he gestured around the shop.  “Why don’t you try the wig on and see how it looks?”

     There was plenty of room under the wig for her own hair and Della was surprised how much it changed her appearance.  She no longer looked slightly studious but happy and carefree. “It’s beautiful,” she said.

     “So are you, Miss?”

     “Della, Della Michaels.”

     He nodded in understanding after hearing her name.  “Our third prize winner and, you’re choosing your prize.”  He reached out touching her hair and letting it fall through his fingers.  “Magnificent,” he said He shrugged an apology.  “I’m sorry for sounding off like that but teeth and hair are an obsession with me.  Have you found a wig that you like?”

     “Yes, I think that I’ll have this one, if that’s all right,” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.

      He laughed.  “Of course it’s all right, perfectly all right.  I was wondering though whether afterwards you’d do me a favour.  I’d like to take some shots of you wearing the wig and some when you’re not.  It won’t take long.  I have a studio in the back.  But first a celebrations drink!  Champagne I think.”

     The young woman behind the sales counter disappeared through a curtain behind her and reappeared a few seconds later carrying a tray on which stood a bottle of champagne and two glasses.  She placed the tray on the counter and Tony Lambert popped the cork in the bottle.

     “Bernice, perhaps you’d pack the wig for Miss Michaels, while I pour the champagne,” he said.

     Della handed the wig and the letter to Bernice, who after reading it smiled.

     “Congratulations, Miss Michaels,” she said.  “You enjoy your drink while I pack this wig into a box for you.”

     Tony handed her a glass filled with sparkling champagne and then touched her glass with his own.  “Congratulations,” he said.

     Della had only taken a couple of sips from her drink when the shop began to sway and then to spin around.

     “Della, are you OK?” Tony’s voice seemed to come from a long way off and she wondered why Bernice was locking the shop door and closing the blinds

     Something pricked her arm and she whimpered but then she felt the world slipping away.  She was dimly aware of being carried and laid down on something hard, like a table but then everything faded from her mind.

     “Oh shit, what a mess!  There’s another one of those girls here! Call for an ambulance, Mike!”

      “Christ,” another voice said.  “That’s five this month.  If only these girls realised, just how valuable real teeth and hair are becoming; people will pay a fortune to have real teeth screwed into their jaws instead of plastic, or for a wig made from human hair.”

     Della awakened by the torch shining in her eyes placed her arm over them to shield them from the light.

     “You’ll be OK.  Miss there’s an ambulance on its way,” the first cop said.

     Della’s head felt as though it was on fire, it was agony and moving it made her cry out in agony.  Her mouth was raw and she tentatively explored it with her tongue and tasted blood.  It took her a few seconds to work out that all her teeth had been pulled out.

     Shrieking in horror she rolled off the table in the centre of the small storeroom and rushed into a larger empty room, which had once been the shop.  A broken piece of mirror lay on the bare wooden floorboards and Della snatched it up and stared in horror at the bloody, bald headed, toothless creature that stared back at her.  It was naked and dried blood caked its skull and covered its chin.  Blood streaked its breasts, stomach and thighs.

  Moments later its mouth opened exposing its raw and bloody gums and the creature that once used to be Della, started to scream.

© Tony Butler 2005