you gifted me scissors and i never knew what to make of them, until now
✂ cut my hair real short so i’d have less to dye red, with the same scissors used for those paper hearts i snipped in half; yes, those words we pinned with our photographs are scattered in perfect edged pieces along my bedroom floor.
✂ can’t regift scissors ’cause i can barely stand looking at them, seems only fair to destroy our life together with them; perhaps, you’d understand the irony too (if i cared enough to ask you).
He laughed, with a laugh which seemed to have no end. Jules opened her eyes and saw him holding a pair of scissors. Her hands were placed behind her back. She was all tied up in a wooden chair.
She followed his hands, and movement. He waved the pair of scissors back and forth. Twisting it around in his hands as if it were a toy. He spinned it right by her face and laughed again. How she detested his laugh!
He squinted his eyes, and then slowly snipped away bits of her hair. With one free hand, he grabbed some of the hair from the floor & tossed it in the air.
‘‘You need to stop this madness!’’
Her words caught him by surprise. He clicked his tongue and bent down on one knee.
‘‘My dear Jules. The party has just started.’’
She trembled. Why was he keeping her tied up and out of sight.
He brushed her hair with his fingers, and moved her bangs out of the way to see her whole face. With a quick slash, he had made an incision along her trachea. Jules wheezed.
The pair of scissors was still lodged in her throat. Tears streamed down her face.
She watched him stare at her while she took her final breath. He pulled out the pair of scissors from her neck. Then wiped the blood from the scissors using Jules’ blue cotton sweater.
He whistled while spinning the pair of scissors in his hands. Once he was at the basement door, he looked back & sighed.
‘‘I guess I’ll have to find another one to join the party. Jules should have at least complimented me on my scissors spinning. Does she know how long it took for me to get it right? How else would I have all these scars on my hands.’’
(Note: inspired by the Michael Myers character. But this guy in this bit uses a pair of scissors to kill his victims. He also speaks/talks more than Myers. Eh, too much actually. A short little take on horror/thriller for now.)
all rights reserved
21st July, 2020
Too many connections
weighing down the soul
it becomes necessary to
purge the excess.
My iron will
forges iron blades
to wield upon a tangled mess.
Surveying the land
finding what does not serve
Pruning down to blood and tears.
Snipping ties to my heart.
The scattered cords
rippling loose in the breeze
return to rest
or be reborn elsewhere.
my lightened heart
is all the better for it.
And the paper beats rock beats scissors beats paper until the game begins anew, children's smiles peeking over small hands in a classroom bathed in pastels and lined with fairy tales, the happy ending just a page away.
The paper beats rock beats scissors beats paper
But what beats a bullet?
and suddenly the happy ending doesn't seem so close and there is blood on the floor but things don't make sense because this place... this place was supposed to be safe.
"Isn't that against the rules, though? There are no guns in rock paper scissors."
"Oh, naive child. Those who make the rules do not care about you."
have to end
we could have
little by little,