The String man

A short creepy tale about the mythical String man.

His fingers are like spindles of string. His heart is sewed like a pin cushion. The fabric of his skin is thicker than canvas. Do not disrupt the String man. 

 

          It had been another day out in the woods behind my house. My friend and I always hung around what we called the “octopus tree” because of how it was one tree with many trunks sprouting out from a middle portion. The one particular day, Jacob was with me at the tree. We were talking about how he wanted to make a movie set in these very woods and call it something generic like “Behind the Black Trees”. Even I knew this was a dumb overdone idea. Jacob kept retelling the plot he had in mind but it was terribly cliché, filled with plot convinces and the main villain sounded even worse. He was an average, run of the muck, knife wielding psychopath on a rampage for blood. Jacob was no writer so I expected as much from his mind. The idea of a film still wasn’t a seller for me anyway.

          Jacob and I loved exploring the woods a lot, mostly because of how huge it was. Jacob decided we should both go down the trail we saw a few months ago. I was the first one to see this trail; it was covered in fallen leaves but the visible signs of the dirt being packed down from being used over and over were prominent. I didn’t like the way the light overhead seemed to be dimmed on the path, even less inviting was the fallen trees and bushes leaning over the tail. Jacob seemed eager to go and check the creepy trail out so I finally caved in and took him to the path entrance. It was far down past where we usually explored, not daring to go too far. I went first into the dark brush. I climbed over the fallen trees and followed the path deeper into the woods. It wasn’t very long and got clearer as I went on. At the end of the path we came to a clearing in the trees illuminated by the sunset orange overhead casting down.

          Something in my gut didn’t feel right and immediately should have been a sign to turn back; but our curiosity drew us to a cabin in the middle of the clearing, old and rotted looking. Jacob moved passed me and mounted onto the front porch. I tried to advise him not to but he refused to listen. I scrambled in behind him. I grabbed his shoulder telling him we should just go but he shrugged me off and pushed the old door open. It slowly folded inward revealing a dim lit mostly empty room. There was a stair case along the right wall and two other rooms on the left and right. Their appeared a single light bulb hanging in the middle of the room. Jacob stepped in and foolishly I did the same. The door behind us slammed loudly. We both gasped and turned to force it back open. Creeping from under the door came a collection of brown wire like string. It snuck up the door and quickly tangled itself around the doorknob, effectively trapping us.

Jacob stared at me as I stared at him both speechless. As we turned back to the room behind us, we realized we weren’t alone. Standing in the light was a tall old looking man. As be stepped into the low light I became familiar with his features. He had skin that looked like canvas and a hastily stitched in smile. His eyes were a pair of black buttons, crudely stuffed against his fabric head. He was wearing a dusty old shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. He stepped closer to us and without hesitation we both scrambled away from him. Jacob was right next to me as we ran for the stairs, heading past the creature. Jacob suddenly collapsed at the foot of the stairs. I turned back and saw his hands grabbing at the steps. Long spindly strings had swiftly wrapped around Jacob’s ankles and pulled him in through the floor. I couldn’t stop for him, even as I heard his cry for help or else I’d go down with him. I reached the top of the stairs and headed left into a shanty bedroom. I slammed the old rotted door and backed up, huffing with tired effort. I looked around, searching for a possible escape. The windows had been boarded, strangely from the inside. I looked under the musty bed tucked in the corner, nothing of use. As I stood up, I felt a pair of crusty strings grab my neck. The String man was here.

           I awoke some hours later, maybe hours I don’t remember. When I came too, I was under a bright light. I was lying on a wooden table. I tried to put my hands over my eyes to block it out but it turned out both my legs and hands had been tied to the table’s legs. I struggled to get free but then I turned my head. I saw Jacob lying on a table too, but not tied down like me. He was lying completely still, not moving in the slightest, not even breathing. I saw the String man behind him, holding a needle with a thimble on his rotted canvas thumb. Another smaller table was next to Jacob’s; this one had a small boy on it. The boy looked just like the String man, with canvas skin and button eyes and that eerie stitched mouth. The small boy had a gaping hole ripped in the side of his head. The String man grabbed a pair of scissors and brought them up alongside Jacob’s face. I was about to cry out and beg him to stop, but then I noticed Jacob’s body. His skin had also been turned to canvas. His eyes replaced by buttons and the same creepy stitched smile curved across his face. The String man began to cut away a piece of Jacob’s head, close to his jaw edge. As the String man pulled away the flap, I got a good look at the inside of Jacob’s mouth. His gums and flesh inside had been remade with bundles of red yarn and his teeth were nothing more than empty wooden spindles. I could barely see his tong clenched between the wooden teeth; it was a thick roll of denim.

           I moved my own tong around, feeling it catch on the walls of my mouth. The same transformation was happening to me. I peered back over at the String man and watched him proceed with his craft. He had begun sewing on the new flap to the smaller boy’s face. I shuddered to think what he was going to do with me next. As he finished, he put down the needle and thimble. He turned to me and bowed down close to my face, coating his terrifying smile over my vision. He then pressed his hands over my eyes, and I blacked out.

           When I came to, I was in my bed. I was startled and shaken up but apparently okay. Then I felt an itch on my back; after reaching back and grabbing at whatever was causing the itch, I found it was a string; just a simple brown and ragged string. I never saw Jacob or the String man after that day again.                                           

Reviews

[Valkyrie Warrior]

This is creepy and very good. Just one thing you miss spelt "Tongue".