Scissorman

Jennifer stood in shock. "Laura? Ann? Lotte? Ms. Mary? Anybody!" she said. She opened her mouth to shout for them, but suddenly, she realized that shouting may not be the best of ideas. "Where could they have gone…!"

She crossed the hallway slowly, carefully, to a door on the opposite side. She tried to turn the doorknob; the door was locked. She had to resist the urge to turn the lights on.

Next, she decided to look upstairs. She slowly climbed the stairs, cautiously as to not make a sound; her footsteps echoed throughout the empty hall. She peered across the foyer; she saw no doors on her left, so she decided to go to her right.

Beneath her, the wooden floor did not squeak. Oh, thank goodness… the quieter, the better. She took several more steps, and underneath her feet, the floor suddenly crumbled away. She let out a loud gasp, and managed to jump back onto the stable floor. Shaken, she went back down the stairs, and into the hallway where she'd first heard the scream.

In the hallway was a doorway, with no door. She peered inside; upon seeing nothing but a bunch of rubble, she continued through the hallway.

She entered the first room she saw: a bedroom. She noticed, on a table by the door, a caged parrot. She pulled open the cage door; the parrot burst out, screaming, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

Jennifer froze; the parrot began attacking her. She put her arms over her head, and let out a small gasp. Just as suddenly as the bird had attacked her, it began to fly about the room.

Jennifer, still in a slight panic, looked around the room to find a way to quiet the loud bird. Her eyes fell on the comforter that was on the right bed. She seized it, and threw it over the bird. Shaken, she headed to the mirror to see just how pale she was. She inspected her reflection, and caught a familiar scent wafting from one of the drawers. She opened it, and smelled the perfume bottle, commenting, "Hm… smells like Ms. Mary's…" She pocketed it, thinking it may come in handy. She excited through a different door.

The next room she entered looked like a small living-room. On one end of the room was a chest of dressers, next to which was a television set, with a painting above it. Next to the fireplace were several armchairs, and behind them, a window opening out to a courtyard.

Jennifer inspected the picture. It was an eerie painting, of what appeared to be two human faces, frozen in an eternal scream. She shuddered, and decided to try the television; nothing displayed but static, static on every channel. She turned it off.

She turned to the drawers; nothing was in them. She reached up to inspect a shoebox atop the drawers; in it was a key. She pocketed it, and looked up once more at the painting. She gasped: the faces now appeared to be bleeding. The television in the corner of the room suddenly turned on at full volume; she quickly ran to the door next to the dressers, which opened back into the hallway.

She took several more steps down the hallway, and froze with fright. She could hear a strange noise, a snipping noise, not unlike a giant pair of scissors opening and closing. Snip… snip… snip…

She shook her head. I must be imagining things…

She now entered the last door in the hallway; it led into a bathroom. Strangely, the room was steamy, the shower on… Jennifer stood shock-still, but heard nothing save the sound of running water.

Still scared, she opened the door into the main area of the bathroom, and her eyes fell on the closed shower curtain. She crossed to it, hesitated, and pulled it opening.

She gasped. "Lau… ra?" she exclaimed in sheer horror.

Hanging by her hands from the showerhead was Laura. There was a sickening bloodstain on her dress, and a gaping pierce wound in her abdomen; the water was turned to its hottest, blistering Laura's skin.

Underneath Laura, from the water, a strange triangular shape began to surface; Jennifer took a tentative step back. The triangle burst out of the water, and split into two, thrusting at Jennifer. She was thrown back; from the water arose a small, grotesque shape, the shape of a small, horribly disfigured human, snapping a giant pair of scissors: Scissorman.