All I remember about the day that my brother died was the blood. It was all over everything, crimson stains splattered all over his bed sheets, on the wood floor, and on the dresser. But what I remember most of all is the scissors. The blood that stained them, already dry by the time we found him. They called it suicide. But I knew better. I knew that it was the reason. But know, it is bored. And I am the only one that can satisfy it.
This is a sneak preview. Come back on Sunday to see the hopefully finished book.
Just as an fyi, it is the name of the monster in my book.
YOU ARE READING
Sewing Scissors
HorrorOkay. This is a horror story that I wrote for a competition with my friends, Icarusninja23, The Dimension Lord, and The Purple Monkey King. Warning: If you can't handle gore, and if certain things like suicide make you very uncomfortable, then do no...
