Her hair was rather long. It had soft waves and was softer than silk, but that didn't make it any better. It barely got tangles, even after sleeping but it was still a pain to brush. It glimmered in the sun and flowers stayed in it perfectly but that didn't curb her hatred. Her hair was long. A beautiful chestnut akin to the feathers of wren. She was not allowed to cut her hair because it was so beautiful. She could not braid it or put it up in any sort of fashion. She was to brush it at least twice a day and wash it often. She was known around the village for her beautiful, long hair. She saw many suitors but she turns them all down. They all want her hair. Her hair has no other properties besides being long, soft, and beautiful. In her opinion, everyone was taking it out of proportion. She herself, was not a woman of any special stature. She was not beautiful and she was not kind. She could not sing or weave and she killed any plant she touched. Over the years, her overall uselessness and her unwillingness to take a husband pushed people from her. Her mother eventually died and she was left all alone. Until the end of her days, and maybe even beyond that, she brushed her hair, and brushed her hair, and brushed her hair some more.