I awoke to the sound of my mother in the kitchen. Groggily, I swung my legs out from under the covers, and got dressed in jean shorts and a simple white T-shirt. Then, I grabbed a white cloth off of my dresser.

It was a bandana that I had found earlier in the year, in January. It was in a box at a yardsale labelled “Do NOT Wear in Sunlight”. A funny joke, I thought. I took it to the lady running the sale. She was old and frail. She stared at me. “Don’t wear that in the sun.” I laughed, and bought it anyway. What an old hag. I put it on my head, and tied it in the back. I had never before worn it.

As I walked into the kitchen, my mother said to me, “Darling, go out to the shed and get the hedgeclippers. I need you to trim the holly bushes out front.”

I agreed to do as she asked. After all, she was my mother. So I strode down the cobblestone path behind our house towards the shed. As I neared that old shed, I noticed how hot it was outside. It was so hot outside that the heat was coming off of the surface of the shed in waves.

I pushed open the door – “OW!” I exclaimed. The sizzling door blistered my hand. I shook it off and went inside. Oh, it was sweltering. I immediately broke into a sweat. The drops rolled off my nose and onto the dirt floor of the shed. I wanted to quickly find the hedgeclippers.

As I dug around in a tool box, the sweat on my face started to blur my vision. I wiped my brow, and was surprised to find that the sweat didn’t come off. I passed it off as a trick of the heat, blinked my eyes, and found the hedgeclippers.

I left the shed, only to find even more heat outside. Oh, it was painful, but I had to do what my mother asked, or I’d be in trouble. I clomped to the front yard and started on the bushes.

The sun beared down on my back and arms. Even my butt felt like fire, and I was crouching, hiding it from the sun! My front and face and feet and fingers were all burning too. The heat was immeasurable, intense, and I suffered all afternoon. Every time I tried to wipe the sweat away, it stayed, and got sopped up in my bandana, created a soaking wet veil on my head. And finally the bushes were finished. I quickly retreated inside, and into my room to get clothes. Then I flew into my bathroom to take a shower and clean up.

I gasped at my reflection. Bright red skin stretched over my face and back and front. No tan lines were visible. My whole body was sunburned and the sweat remained unclearable from my visage. I touched my skin. Agony erupted all over my body. I then realized I hadn’t removed the bandana. I tried to pull it off; it wouldn’t come. I tried in vain to rip it from my head, but it wouldn’t budge. On the third attempt, I accidently touched my burned skin. In a fit of pain, I scratched my fourhead. My skin was already peeling.

I took hold of the peeled piece and pulled, eyes closed, for I could sense the coming agony. But it didn’t come. I continued to pull at the piece. Finally it came lose. I opened my eyes and screamed.

My face had been peeled off, and the bandana had come with it. I looked at the bandana in horror, the memory of the box it was in coming back to me. Slowly, the rest of the skin on my head fell off, peeling in slow motion. I watched in horror as the skin on my arms and legs went. Just as my eyes burned, bloodshot were about to fall out, I noticed brownish, smeared words on the bandana, written in blood and sweat.


Credit To: Toni

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