CREEPYPASTA CHARACTERS

SCISSOR MOUTH

THIS IS A LONGER STORY BUT ONE OF MY FAVOURITES ;)

I've always loved scissors. I love those sharp edges of the blade. The sound of blades simultaneously slicing, cutting clothes, hair and perhaps even skin. Let me remember what I meant earlier.

I am obsessed with scissors, which is why I have been collecting them for seven years, since I was only fifteen. Let me tell the story from the beginning. It's quite long, so sit back and bear with me! It was August 2012 and I had finished school. I ignored my stepmother to spend my free time listening to Creepypasta. I sat on bed and tapped the tip of my favorite scissors on my tongue, silently dragging the blade.

As I said before, I love the metal of the blade. I tried to stop the background hum of the Spanish lullaby of the story I was listening to, the same melody my jewelry box made when you opened it. I dropped the scissors and hugged myself; a tear ran down my cheek: "How long will I have to endure the agony of every day of this life?". I thought silently. I closed my eyes and sighed, sitting down slowly. I left the YouTube page as the background of the dark voice crept into my mind.

I opened Facebook and immediately typed: "Anyone know where you can get collectible scissors? For example the sharp ones?". I received only a few interesting responses. One person recommended Ebay and another I didn't know asked me for my address, bragging about it by saying he had a couple of old ones. I asked him for a photo: he wasn't lying; they were an old pair of sewing scissors, with gold handles and sharp blades. I eagerly sent my address with a chuckle. I closed my laptop by tucking it under the mattress before playing with my dog and falling asleep.

The next day, out of nowhere, I received a package from a guy dressed in black, but there was no return address. The boy simply waved and said "Good luck" and left. Looking at the package after school, I realized there was no return address. My friend Shannon looked at the package, but did not deduce anything; I tore off the brown paper showing a wooden box where a pentacle was engraved on it. I almost always saw him, so I didn't notice.

As I opened the box, I felt my heart leap and pound. What could I expect? I wasn't so sure. Shannon rolled her eyes at the sight of the scissors: its golden handle sparkled, its sharp blades eager to cut something...And they would do it right away! Shannon paid no attention and looked at her watch: "I have to go. Have fun with your new scissors, Hannah!" I smiled and greeted her. I went back into the house, closing the door with my foot creaking from the bang.

I sat quietly in my bed and admired the shimmering blade and golden handle of the scissor. I felt overwhelmed by a familiar urge for blood that I sometimes felt during the acute insomnia and excruciating screams I heard. I put on a Creepypasta and the strange and dark voice resumed whispering to me: it calmed me. I chuckled when I heard screams and shots.

Now I don't remember the name of the Creepypasta, but it was one of those whose ending you immediately understood. I put the scissors into the box, placing it on top of me. I lay down in my bed and closed my eyes. I don't remember everything in detail, but here is the dream I had that night.

It was dark and I could hear heavy breathing. Someone grabbed my ankle and looked down: it was me. I was bloody, crying and desperately trying to stand on my broken legs. My little brother was lying on the ground. A strange chuckle came from the person I was in the dream (from now on I'll call her Sara). Simply, Sara grabbed my brother and I began to panic; I looked at my shredded legs: despair was very clear in me when Sara lifted the scissors and then plunged them into the little baby's belly and removed part of the intestine, and then put it in my head. I began to cry when she tore the heart out of the baby. I fell silent. Those damn scissors. I shrieked in horror; a boy started moaning in the corner. I turned to look and saw the boy who gave me the package. She was crying and shouting: "Mom! Please!". I panicked. The boy looked at me and grabbed my shirt: "Please! Make sure my mother doesn't hurt anyone anymore!". I woke up.

My hands were stained with blood; I yelled. The little puppy I used to hug tightly to me lay crippled on the blood-soaked carpet. The scissors were held tight by my hand; I rolled my eyes so much that I thought they were about to explode. A soft whisper murmured: "Are you satisfied now? Do you need more people to kill or would you like to stop?".

I looked up. She was the woman of the dream, Sara. How did I know his name? I didn't know that well. I stepped back slowly and shook my head when I felt the wall behind me. Sara walked towards me spreading her arms. "I possessed you, darling," she laughed and grabbed me in her arms: it was the coldest hug I've ever felt in my entire life. Sara turned around and I opened the door, my weak legs limping from the ground. The corridor was covered in blood; Sara took me into the living room: my eyes filled with tears as I turned the corner.

There was my family: they had all been hanged and slaughtered. I looked at my legs which were covered in blood and shredded, this explained why it had been difficult for me to walk. Sara wrapped her arms around my father, then hugged my brothers. I watched in horror as the woman danced around the room singing out loud: "It's a small world, after all."

I tried to leave until I fell to my knees. I felt a cold metal under my hand: those damn scissors. The tall woman saw the scissors: "You hate me...". Whisper. I put my back against the wall, desperate, kicking. She was getting closer and closer to me and seemed to be crying: "Everyone hates me..." I slowly hugged my knees looking up at the ceiling. Sara sat down in front of me, taking my hand:
"I thought you wanted them to be more silent. I thought you wanted my scissors..." she looked sad and I felt I had to comfort her.

He smiled looking up: "Maybe someone loves me..." I stared at her and she smiled at me: "I also did it with my family. I just had a good life." I watched her as she dissolved into the daylight. And finally I only heard his voice whispering: "It's okay. I'll always love you."

I closed my eyes and woke up again in my bed. I didn't leave bed that day. All the blood was gone and my legs were fine. Finally, I saw the sunset. I couldn't sleep. I got up and went into the kitchen, not noticing, however, my mutilated family in the living room. I picked up the phone and dialed the police number. I spent three days in a plant. I sat quietly in the small white room. Finally the door opened and I was free to go.

A little boy, dressed in black, greeted me at the door: "And your brother?" I blinked but nodded. He grabbed my hand and a woman dressed in black took it. He looked at me under a black veil: "Hi Hannah". I looked at her: Sara. I saw the corridor stained with blood and limbs. I heard several screams from patients. It was unbearable. I had two choices: I could return the scissors and leave (I didn't know where) or accept them and waste the rest of my life killing people to satisfy an evil entity of dark hatred.

What did I choose, you wonder. Well, I told you I liked scissors. It is not so?