Short Stories

Scissors (Horror)

I need to study for my English exam so I'm doing a whole bunch of mini/drabble timed writings. Each I have done in half an hour (luckily we get two hours for the exam) but I want to do a bunch of them. Please give me a percentage grade or something for it and point out all of my mistakes (not counting spelling.) Please keep in mind that these were done in half an hour and grade me accordingly!!! Thank you!

Prompt 112: write a fictional scary encounter with your barber/ hairdresser

"Hey Stephen!" I ran forward and hugged a short- brunette man. I pulled away. "You look fantastic this morning!" I exclaimed, taking in his refreshing look of gayness. He was dressed in a dark red v-neck shirt and tight black skinny jeans. His look was completed with black street boots, which hid the ends of his jeans. His hair was jelled up in a cow-lick, like normal.

"Thank you so much!" He hugged me again enthusiastically. "I've been in a horrible mood today." He sighed and led me over to a chair and the gossip began.

"Tell me all about it. I want to hear all the latest gossip." He pulled out his scissors and began snipping away mercilessly at my golden locks.

This was part of my weekly routine. I came in on Thursdays and sat down in a swiveling char to get my hair cut. Stephen was a barber at a store called Super Cuts in the gay portion of downtown. There were rainbow flags hung on the building outside and even one of the walls inside the shop was painted like a rainbow. I would come in to model new hairstyles for him. He got a dummy to practice new stuff on and I got a delicious free hair cut. He always complimented me on my naturally blond hair. He said what he loved most about it was the natural brown highlights in it. He never dyed my hair, no matter how many times I told him it was okay to dye. Instead, he simply left it the way it was.

Which was why, today, I was suprised to see him pulling out hair dye.

"Are you going to dye my hair today, Stephen?" I asked, curiously.

"Do you not want me to?" he asked sheepishly.

"I was just surprised but you go girl! I want a new hair color!" I smiled.

"Let's do it!"

He began to apply the color to my hair with his bare hands. I'm sure that wasn't how it was supposed to be done, but I didn't question it. He liked to try new stuff and I guessed that was simply what it was- something new. The red dye dripped down my head.

"It looks like the same color of your shirt!" I laughed. Stephen was quiet. He didn't respond and that was what scared me. Stephen was never quiet. This wasn't like him! "Stephen?" He simply dug his hands in deeper into my skull, a look of concentration plastered on his face. "Stephen?!" I was getting scared and his hands were starting to hurt my head. One of the reasons I liked Stephen as my barber was because he never hurt me. He didn't comb my hair violently or pull at it. "Stephen, that hurts! Are you okay?"

"Shhh...." he whispered in my ear. "Just calm down. You're fine." The pain in my head was starting to go away. I could still feel the pressure of his hands being applied to my head, even harder and harder every second, but it didn't hurt. The pain was numbing away, like how it feels when your legs fall asleep, or when your body becomes so cold you can't feel it anymore. It was like that, just less calming. I didn't know what was going on this time.

Something started to ooze down my forehead. Putting my hand to my head and pulling it away, I could see it was some of the dye that Stephen was now dumping excessively on my head. I shut my mouth against it but couldn't help but notice that it smelled a little... odd... It didn't smell like the normal hair dye, like hair spray mixed with paint, but instead.. kind of.. stomach churning? Like how I imagined an old corpse would after it had rotted in the sun for a few weeks. It was blood... My blood...

I tried to scream but I couldn't find my voice. Not like when a clump of snot is caught in your throat. I was doing everything like you normally do with to speak except for now it hurt and no sound was coming out.

I looked into the mirror opposite me and froze in shock. I felt cold steel withdraw from my skin as I watched Stephen pull his scissors from my throat with something bloody on the end. There was a hunk of skin missing from my throat and I stated heavily bleeding he moment the scissors were removed. "I said, shh..." Stephen whispered in my ear.

I closed my eyes as he heavily started jamming the scissors into my head. Repeatedly, I felt the tip come up and crash back down again into my skull. With each jab, the pain got more inense. I wished I could scream but... you know.. Stephen had stolen my voice. I could feel my head starting to split. Suddenly, the hammering stopped and I cautiously peeked my eyes open to look at the mirror. There was something shiny and silver sticking out of my head. The scissors. But Stephen was also standing there, a piece of my bloody skull in his hand. It took everything that I had not to barf. The blood wasn't a bright red like it had been when it dripped from my head. It was a deep red that had crusted over and looked as if it had been there for a month. Stephen as frozen, not moving, not speaking, just frozen with a look of psychotic demonition in his eyes. I watched as my vision slowly faded and crumbled until everything was black.

Was I... dead? Was that my last view of life that had frozen in my brain? Yes... The answer came almost immediatly from myself. Yes, I was dead. But what frightened me wasn't that I was dead. No, I had almost a peaceful understanding that I was dead. I could relax now. There would be no more pain or anxiety.

I recalled that Stephen had had other models, and that I had become really close to one of them, named Josh. He actually looked a lot like Stephen and they were referred to as brothers, even though they shared no blood between them. I also recalled that I hadn't seen him for a while. Stephen had told me that he had gone on a vacation awarded to him by his work. I had accepted it then but now...

No. What frightened me wasn't that I was dead. It was the recognition that my blood and Stephen's shirt were exactly the same color.

It took me a little over half an hour to do this but I was also doing other things in that half an hour so it's okay, right? Yeah. xD So please, don't forget to grade me on how well I did and thank you for reading!

Grade: 85%

Even though there's already a grade, please, grade me anyways and I will change it according to people's comments!!!