The town of Duskwell was small, but it had charm,red brick houses with ivy-strangled porches, narrow roads that curled like secrets, and a sky that always looked like it had something to say.
Noah had just moved in.
He stepped out of his modest rental house with a carton of books in his arms, and before he could even close the door, a voice rang out.
"Noah? Noah Rivers?"
He turned. A man jogged up the sidewalk toward him, grinning ear to ear.
It took Noah a moment, but then it clicked.
"Jamie?"
Jamie nearly dropped his coffee as he pulled Noah into a one-armed hug. "Man, I can't believe it! What's it been, ten years? You look... different."
Noah chuckled. "Yeah. You don't."
Jamie clapped him on the back, but his eyes squinted with playful judgment. "You seriously came here with that haircut?"
Noah raised an eyebrow. "You seriously came out here without a mirror?"
Jamie laughed,loud and unbothered. "Alright, alright. Fair. But seriously, if you're gonna live in Duskwell, you need to look the part. I know a guy. Best barber in town. No, actually the best barber you'll ever meet. Changed my life, bro."
Noah shifted the box against his hip. "Is this your subtle way of saying I look like crap?"
Jamie pointed at him like he'd just won a game show. "Exactly. And I'm not letting you walk around like that. Come on. You moved in, now it's time to blend in."
Before Noah could argue, Jamie was already walking backward toward his car, keys spinning around his finger.
"Trust me," he called. "You'll thank me later."
Noah sighed. He had unpacking to do. Groceries to buy. But Jamie's energy was hard to resist, and there was something weirdly comforting about slipping into old friendships like worn shoes.
He tossed the box back inside the door and locked it.
"Alright." he muttered.
The barbershop sat at the corner of Merrow Street, tucked between a dusty antiques store and a florist that looked permanently closed. The sign above the shop was simple: "Gideon's." No tagline. No window posters. Just a single, slowly spinning red-and-white barber pole humming in the breeze.
Jamie parked out front and gestured proudly. "Here it is. Temple of transformation."
Noah eyed the windows. They were fogged from the inside, making it hard to see anything clearly. A faint smell drifted out when Jamie opened the door,something woody and strange, like sandalwood soaked in rainwater.
The bell jingled overhead.
Inside, the shop was dim and quiet. No music. No idle chatter. The walls were covered in black-and-white photos of smiling men with sharp cuts, all looking just a little too posed. A single barber chair sat under a spotlight, the leather cracked but clean.
Noah's steps slowed as he looked around. The air felt heavy here, like time moved differently.
A man stood behind the chair, finishing up with a customer. The customer,mid-thirties, wide grin, shaky with excitement,practically leapt from the seat.
"Man," the customer said, beaming into the mirror, "you've done it again. This is art."
Noah blinked. The guy's haircut was… a mess. Jagged edges. Uneven fade. A lopsided part that made his head look slanted. But the customer looked at himself like he'd just been crowned royalty.
He turned, clapped the barber on the back, and left in a near-sprint, still gushing.
The barber turned toward them.
Tall, thin, with a pale, unblinking stare. He had silver hair slicked back with oil and hands wrapped in thin black gloves. His name tag, small and silver, read simply: Gideon.
Jamie walked forward with a grin. "Gideon, my man. Got a fresh one for you. This is my buddy Noah."
Gideon nodded once. "Welcome, Noah."
Noah hesitated. "Thanks, but… actually, I think I'll pass for today. I just came to check the place out."
Jamie slapped him on the back. "Come on, don't be nervous. It's just a haircut."
Noah looked back at the door, then at the chair. The leather creaked softly, like it was breathing.
"Something wrong?" Jamie asked, voice light.
Noah leaned closer, whispering, "That guy's hair was a disaster."
Jamie looked genuinely confused. "What? No, man. It was clean. Sharp. You just don't see it yet. But you will."
Gideon gestured to the chair. "It's ready when you are."
Noah swallowed.
Something in his gut screamed no, but Jamie's eyes held that same gleam the last customer had,the same faith. The same devotion.
And behind him, outside the fogged window, Noah noticed: people passing by all had the same cut. Slightly different variations, but unmistakably… Gideon's.
Noah took a small step back, enough to feel the cool metal of the door handle brush against his palm.
"Maybe another time," he said, trying to keep it casual.
Jamie frowned, just for a second. "Bro, you just got here. First impressions matter. You wanna meet people looking like a history teacher on unpaid leave?"
Noah smirked despite himself, but his eyes stayed on Gideon, who stood still as a statue. Watching.
"I'm serious," Noah said. "I appreciate it, but I've barely unpacked. Maybe next week."
Gideon didn't move. "Your friend was hesitant once too."
Jamie nodded. "I was. Remember? I even left the first time. Then I came back the next day. And I haven't gone anywhere else since."
Noah chuckled nervously. "Well, I've got a cheap pair of clippers and a mirror at home. Might save myself the trip."
Silence.
For a moment, no one said anything. The shop felt colder. He glanced again at the photos on the wall. All men. All smiling the same smile.
Jamie stepped toward the chair and leaned on it. "You ever notice how nobody here looks tired? Or stressed? People in Duskwell don't worry like they used to. I think Gideon's part of that."
Noah's skin prickled.
He nodded slowly, backed up to the door, and pushed it open. "Alright, man. I'll think about it."
Jamie didn't push. He just smiled and said, "You'll be back."
___
Outside, the afternoon felt brighter,louder, even. Noah let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The moment the barbershop door shut behind him, it was like shaking off a strange dream.
He walked a few blocks before calling a cab. He didn't want to run into anyone else from town,not yet.
___
At home, he made instant coffee and stood at the sink, trying to shake the fog from his head. Why did a barbershop feel so... off? Why did Jamie seem like a different person inside it?
He glanced at his reflection in the kitchen window.
Then, out of instinct, he stepped into the bathroom and flicked on the light.
His hair looked fine. Sure, it was a little overgrown, but it was still him. Still familiar.
He didn't want to lose that.
As night fell, he closed the blinds, checked the locks twice, and told himself it was just a weird day. A new town. An old friend. A creepy barber.
Nothing to worry about.
Until the knocking started.
Three soft knocks. Then silence.
Then the voice.
"You should've stayed for the cut."
Noah froze.
The voice had come from the other side of his front door. Calm. Patient. Too familiar.
He didn't move. Didn't breathe.
Another knock.
He backed away from the door slowly, silently, reaching into the kitchen drawer for the only thing close to a weapon,a rusted old corkscrew.
The knocks stopped.
Silence.
Then footsteps. Not just one pair. Several.
Soft scuffing across the porch. A brief shuffle near the back window. He darted to it and tugged the blinds open,but no one was there. Just the quiet street under the amber glow of a flickering streetlamp.
He paced back to the front, pressed his eye to the peephole,and nearly recoiled.
Jamie stood on the porch. Behind him were at least four others,some he vaguely recognized from the grocery store earlier. All with the same haircut. All with the same dead smile.
"Noah," Jamie called gently. "You don't have to be afraid. It's easier than you think."
"I don't want the damn haircut," Noah said, his voice cracking.
A pause.
"We're past that now," Jamie said.
The door handle jiggled.
Noah ran. Bedroom. Closet. Window. He yanked it up, slipped out, and dropped to the side yard, barely catching himself with one hand. He didn't stop to breathe. Just ran.
He made it two blocks before a van turned the corner and screeched to a stop ahead of him.
Two people jumped out.
Hands grabbed him from behind,he hadn't even heard them coming.
He kicked. Swung. Screamed.
But someone whispered in his ear:
"It's okay. You'll feel better soon."
The world tilted. A sharp prick in his neck. Darkness closed in fast.
___
Noah woke up in the chair.
Leather under his arms. The same light overhead. The air thick with the smell of old smoke and eucalyptus.
Gideon stood beside him. Calm. Smiling faintly.
Jamie stood nearby, arms folded, nodding.
Noah tried to move, but his body felt heavy,like he'd been dipped in syrup.
"I didn't want this," he murmured. "I didn't ask for this."
"No one ever does," Gideon said, brushing his fingers through Noah's hair. "But they always thank me."
The clippers clicked to life.
Noah tried to scream, but all that came out was a slow breath,acceptance or exhaustion, he couldn't tell.
Gideon's collected his hair in a bottle and smiled.
___
He woke again in his bed.
Fully dressed. Lights off. Room quiet.
For a second, he thought it had been a nightmare.
Then he saw the mirror.
He blinked. Sat up.
His reflection was ....beautiful.
Not just clean-cut. Radiant. His skin seemed smoother. Eyes clearer. Jaw sharper. His hair... perfect.
He stared for a long time.
Then he smiled.
It felt easy.