The scene from the glass opens at farmland while the farmhand is tendering some ewe lamb. He stood and admired the clean and well-grown beards of the lambs and slowly caressed his own chin. Whoever saw me at that moment would think he was reaching into the inner chin in an attempt to force out his stunted beard growth. One would bet that if he had such powers, he would have used it a long while ago.
The story of the farmhand's missing beard is a rather long and interesting one. He wasn't always beardless: something led into another...
I'd just come out of adolescence when my beards started showing up in a rather beautiful and well-structured manner. They undoubtedly enhanced my pretty appearance and outlook. Girls flocked around me like flies, inciting envy from friends and foes alike. I also happened to know how to take good care of it, so the hate around me only intensified and continued for a very long time.
One day, Fable Beard Co's showed up in our town, seeking for promoters and perfect models to sell their beard product. I happened to pass by when they arrived and they did ask that I come to be their product ambassador. Lots of Fable Beard Co's Beard Oil was handed out to me, along with a promise of some stipends.
Days grew into weeks and my beards went from strength to strength. The Beards Oil also lent shinny support to them, making everyone rush to get the beard oil product for themselves. It did work for some who had beards, while the majority who ordinarily had no beard continued to languish in their beardless lifestyle. Nonetheless, the hate around me continued to grow: I had perfect, well-grown beards that anyone could kill to get. My attitude didn't help matters. I made conscious attempts at an ever opportune moment to haul the well-groomed beard in everyone's face.
I remember a time a new, attractive woman arrived in town. She quickly became famous for her rejection of dating proposals from various males: no male simply matched her taste. News filtered to my ears and I was determined to curry her for myself - just for the reputation sake. I dressed up in the best way I knew, with my beards adequately treated with Fable Beard Co's Beard Oil. I sought her out from amongst her newly-found friends and pitched my proposal to her. She replied that she needed adequate time to mull over it, which was in itself a success: every other person who'd previously approached her got an outright 'No' as an answer. Three days later, I again sought her out for her reply but she again pleaded for more time. This time, I was starting to get more apprehensive. My reputation was on the line, and I wasn't ready to lose it. We met a week later and she gave me the good news of her acceptance. Since it was just to prove the power of my beards, I hung out with her for some while before exiting the relationship. I'd made my point.
One day, a very close friend of mine called me aside and counseled me on the havoc my beard and over-confident lifestyle was wreaking. He warned that I needed to be vigilant and be on the look-out for dangerous moves from utterly dissatisfied persons. I simply laughed it off for I didn't believe that anyone in their right senses would hold another person to ransom, on the basis of beards! But I soon got to learn the irrationality of some unreasonable humans.
If nothing, the discussion did really me into upping my game, but I soon learned a bitter lesson.
On this (un)fateful day, I was ambushed by a gang of beardless youths, on my way to a friend's place. Their facial expressions showed they weren't in a good mood. If I'd seen them before I inched dangerously close, I'd have abruptly turned away I the opposite direction. But I only saw them when it was too late. I surveyed the area seeking an alternative route but none seemed forthcoming. The valiant spirit in me urged me on to my own loss. After going past them a little bit, one of them grabbed my beards and drew me back.
He asked where I thought I was going and as I made to reply to him, a hot slap landed on my cheeks out of nowhere. My eyes immediately turned blood red from the sting. As I parted my lips to ask what was going on and what the essence and reasoning the way lay was for, another stingy slap landed on the other cheek. Daring the descent of another attack, I immediately asked them what my offense was. They laughed in unison. After some quiet, the one who appeared to be in control answered that enough was enough. He went further to recount his sour experiences at the hands of ladies since my beards came of age. He outlined his losses and the taunts he and other members of his gangs had received, all because of my beards. He concluded that today, they'd take their pound of flesh on behalf of themselves and several others that have been disadvantaged by my beards. In a jiffy, the six other minions with him grabbed and restrained me while their leader whipped out hair shave implements from his pocket. All my struggle to break free from their grip turned out to all be in vain. The leader reached out to shave off my masculine pride and in spite of my outbursts and struggles, became successful at it. He shaved every strand of hair from thereon and applied an odorless solution. They laughed hysterically and strutted away with joy. Ashamed at my loss, he retraced my steps back to my house, covering my bare chin with both hands and eyes cast downwards.
Repeated usage of different home remedies didn't seem to revive the beard growth. It was at this point I knew that the beard needed to be respected. From this moment I vowed to never disrespect the beard again.
The Scribe pulled back from the looking glass and had an epiphany. The Harvester that resides on the edge of town had a similarly striking appearance to the man in the glass but was quite a few years older. I should go and pay him a visit and see if his beard still ails him so.