Scary Stories

[Clayton]

Can you come up with a brief but scary story? 

 

 

Smile

Mr. Bryson was a strange teacher. A good one, nobody had any complaints. Handsome too. Tall and good looking with muscles and a handsome face. But strange. Oh he showed his face, but he never showed his teeth when he smiled and seemed to be licking behind his lips with his tongue pushing against them. Every time he spoke he seemed to face away or put something in front of his mouth. Lecturing from behind books or when he faced the chalkboard.

Linda was a good student, but she noticed things. Maybe she had a little crush on him too. Either way small things caught her attention. Like how sometimes when he passed by he smelled like nail polish, though his fingers were usually just trimmed. She had seen polish on his desk a few times. A bottle of white that she could see went down from time to time and then was replaced with a new one. As if he was painting his nails every day. Except he was not.

She wondered if he did his toes. She had an uncle who had become her aunt. Was Mr. Bryson a cross dresser or transgender? Was he hiding lipstick either on his mouth or maybe on his teeth?

Linda had no problem with that, but she was curious. She even asked him about why he hid his mouth all the time, after everyone else left class. He said, "When I was young it turned out I had a condition. I would lose a baby tooth but a new one would not grow in. I got teased and bullied a lot. Even beat up. Some kids hit me trying to knock out more teeth so they could see.

"We were poor but my daddy was a medicine man out in the swamps where we grew up. Lots of family had a similar problem. We couldn't afford a dentist or anything like that, so we found a work around. It helped me replace my teeth, but it still looks strange, so I keep it to myself."

"I didn't mean to pry," she said, lying a bit.

She was still curious and she kept noticing the nail polish smell and everything and she got curious. One day at the end of school it was hot and there was little studying to be done. Mr. Bryson sent everyone outside the play. Linda saw through the class window as he lay back with a book over his face to take a nap in the chair behind his desk.

Unable to contain her inquisitiveness she snuck back into the class. She had to know what his teeth looked like. Was he telling the truth? Was he hiding lipstick? Maybe she could even, she thought with a blush, sneak a little kiss.

She tiptoed in as the sounds of children playing drifted in from outside and went over to where he laid, chest rising and falling. Gently she lifted the book and was relieved when he did not twitch awake. Enjoying the room's air conditioning on the hot day. His lips were lipstick free and looked very kissable to the young lady, parted just a little as he breathed.

Linda leaned in and was about to kiss him when she caught a glimpse inside. At first she was not sure what was wrong. She could see nice white teeth peeking through his lips. All in a neat row. Then it looked like maybe he had swollen gums. And they seemed so tiny. Almost like baby teeth.

Kiss forgotten she reached up and gently tugged down his lip with a fingertip. She almost screamed right then and there.

Those were not teeth. She saw neat rows of white things almost the same shape, but she realized they were not actually teeth. They were fingernails. Each painted white. Still attached to fingertips. Not a full grown man's, but small ones. Like those of young children. Each poking out of his gums in two neat rows. They were not just stuck in place either. They wiggled just a little and she realized that it had not been his tongue moving behind his lips all those times he smiled at all. Near the back was one gaping hole, as if from a recently removed molar or maybe a wisdom tooth.

Something moved and she looked up into his open eyes. With a squeal she backed up and fell across the desk.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, the sight of his mouth moving over those painted nails sending a wave of nausea through Linda as he grabbed her arm. She screamed, but with the kids playing outside it was one of many as his other hand clapped over her mouth. "You were always one of my favorite students Linda. Too bad. I guess I'll have to move on again. I'll miss you and all the other kids. But don't worry; I'll always have something to remember you by." Pressing her back into the desk he gripped her arm and she watched in wide eyed panic as he slammed her hand back onto the paper cutter raising up the sliding blade, forcing her hand over to the line.

When the kids came in after the bell rang they did not find Mr. Bryson and eventually someone noticed Linda was missing too. But there was blood on the desk. They went and got help and soon they found the girl at least, in the supply closet unconscious.

"What happened to her hand?" Someone asked when they saw that the tip of her little finger on her left hand was missing, bleeding all over the bottom of the closet.