The Cotton Candy Massacre by Christopher Robertson

Author:Christopher Robertson [Robertson, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: TerrorScope Studios
Published: 2022-07-01T00:00:00+00:00

"Clarky! Come out and play!" Stacey pulls on the locker door, and though she's not particularly strong, the kid has boundless energy. Clark's fingers are red where they grasp the inside of the lock, the rough edge of the rattling metal biting into his skin.

He loses his grip momentarily, and the door jerks open an inch; as quickly as Clark pulls it closed, Stacey's quicker, and she gets the tip of the scissors in through the gap. They scrape through, going as far as the crack will allow, reaching the top of Clark's curled fingers.

Stacey's sunken black eye appears in the gap. "Hiya!" Her lips curl.

"Why are you doing this!?" Clark pleads.

Through the crack, he sees Stacey's genuinely taken aback by his question, as though it makes no sense to her. "It's fun, duh!" She grins and rattles the scissors. "Come out and play!" Stacey pushes the tip of the scissors down toward Clark's fingers—the edge isn't sharp enough to break the skin, but he's already at a breaking point without the added pressure. Clark bears his teeth and squeezes his eyes tight, but it's no good. His fingers slip, and Stacey seizes the opportunity, yanking the locker door open.

"There you are, Clark-in-the-Box!" Stacey's grin spreads across her pallid face, and even beyond the limits of her mouth, the black smile continues, zig-zagging as though etched on her skin by some unseen chaotic artist. Her eyes roll white as she giggles, and her hair flows with blue streaks as Stacey waves the bloody scissors around like a toy.

Clark attempts to protect himself as best he can, crossing his arms with his palms outstretched in a last-second bid for mercy. "Please, Stacey—"

He's cut off and so are Stacey's wild chortles as a needle lands in the little girl's bare shoulder. Stacey's head whips around, her side ponytail swishing the new color away as the black lipstick smile retreats across her face. Her eyes meet Cliff's, his whole face shiny with sweat that pools around the collar of his t-shirt. "Huh?" Stacey says as she faints into her brother's arms.

Catching the girl, Cliff looks at Clark. "You OK, dude?"

"Uh." Clark's in shock, still holding his defensive pose. He jerks when Cliff steps closer. His eyes look past Cliff and his unconscious sister, to the bloody corpse of Boohoo on the floor. Hand quivering, Clark points to the body. "Sh-she did that..."

Cliff follows Clark's finger, looks to Boohoo, but doesn't follow. "Your sister k-killed him!"

"Clark, dude, that makes no sense. Shit, look, we gotta book—we're meeting Rocky and the others—"

"No!" Clark slips out of the locker, keeping his back pressed to the wall. "I'm not going anywhere with her!"

"Dude! Listen!"

"No!" Clark slides along to the door, never taking his eyes off the oddly sweet and peaceful face of Stacey as she sleeps, tiny bubbles blowing from her lips. His hand grabs the handle, fumbles, and then throws the door open.

"Clark, look, we need to stick together—"

"I'm outta here, and if you had any

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