Crappy Pastas

Origami Killer

The nurse pushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear and stares up at the Doctor.
“But Sir! He’s ten years old!” She exclaims outraged, pointing at the white door to her left.

“Yes, I know.” The Doctor sighs tiredly, not in the mood to have this conversation.
“He shouldn’t even be here! With all due respect, Sir, I think we are doing a major mistake, he is just a child.”

The Doctor looks up at the nurse with a slight glare in his eyes, his face suddenly cold.

“That ‘child’ you speak of, killed thirteen people, Linda.”
“I know that, but I mea-”

“Using paper scissors. Paper scissors!”

Nurse Linda’s face looses it’s color. “W- what? But how?”

“According to the autopsy rapport, they were stabbed in the abdominal area.”
The nurse steppes further away from the white door, shivering slightly.
Muffled chuckles can be heard coming from inside.

The Mason’s was seen as an ordinary family. There was nothing odd about them. They lived in a simple normal house, in a simple normal neighborhood.

Every morning Mr. Mason would kiss his wife goodbye, walk out the front door and head to work.

Every morning, Mrs. Mason would get the children ready for school, while doing normal household chores.

Every morning Sandra Mason would do her makeup and eat her cereal before finally heading out the door away from her mothers whining.

Every morning little Piper Mason, the baby of the family, would bang her little spoon in the table, demanding breakfast.

And every single morning, Patrick Mason would feed his little sister, before sitting down in the living room and start his day.

They were all normal. Normal. Except Patrick.

Patrick wasn’t normal.

Patrick didn’t like to do what his family did, he didn’t like to go to school, he didn’t like to play football with the other ten year old boys in the park, he didn’t like to get hugs from his mother or pats on the back from his father.

Patrick could even say he despised it.

But, what he did like, loved, really, was Origami.

Origami was his outlet. He had control when folding those paper corners, he had full control of what he was making.

His mother had a whole drawer full of old paper figurines he had made when he was younger, but since making paper figures was all he really ever did, it had become to many for his mother to take care of.
He didn’t blame her for throwing them away.
Really, he didn’t care.

For little Patrick Mason, it was the act of doing something he had total control over, not the pretty little butterfly that the paper folded into, and-


Patrick froze. Watching the little drop of blood seep down and ruin his work. The pain in his little finger growing a little stronger.

A paper cut.

A red drop of blood hitting his paper.

Ruining it.

Making it un perfect.

Patrick screamed.

It had taken his mother two hours to get him to come out from under the couch this time. It was almost a new record.

“So, Patrick, can you tell me about the incident that happened this morning?”

Patrick didn’t.

“Patrick, please, I can only help you if you let me in.”

Patrick didn’t want to let her in.

“Patrick! Tell Dr. Watson what happened!” His mother snapped, looking at him sharply.

“I don’t want to.”

It was meant to sound like a snap, but it came out as a whisper. Loosing it’s effect.

Patrick folded his paper diagonally.

Patrick sat at the dinner table, silently staring at his baby sister.
He liked his baby sister, loved her even.

Piper didn’t question his behavior, she didn’t look at him like he was some sort of freak. She would smile and gurgle happily when he gave her one of his Origami animals.

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She was nothing like his family.

“So Patrick had another incident today.” His mother said, none to nicely, to his father.

“Oh, really?” His father asked, laying down his fork and dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

Patrick folded his napkin.

“Oh yes, took me nearly two hours to get him to snap out of it.”
Patrick shuddered. He hated it when they talked about him like he wasn’t even there.

“Must have been exhausting, honey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was, believe me, oh Peter, why is it that-”

“Now, Theresa, there is no need.”

They carried on their conversation, not hearing his apologies.

Patrick went back to staring at his little sister, tuning out the rest of his parents conversation.
Piper had green eyes, just like he had.
He smiled a little.

“I pity his parents.” The nurse says with a frown.

“Yeah? And why is that?”

“Well, it says here in his records that they did everything they could for him. Took him to a psychiatrist, gave him special care, paid for home schooling.”

The doctor huffs, rubbing his eyes a little.

“You will come to learn, Linda, that files and records may not always be what they seem.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Sir.” The nurse says, a confused expression visible on her young face.

“Patrick, you come out from there right now!” His mother shrieked, banging at the bathroom door.

Patrick covers his hears, banging his head against the tiled floor.

“Patrick Lee Mason, don’t make me get your father!”

Patrick Lee Mason screamed and banged his head harder, a crumpled Origami Horse in his little hand.

Little Patrick laid exhausted on the cold tiles if the bathroom floor. His mother had long since given up, as he knew she would. She couldn’t understand. No, she wouldn’t understand, why Patrick did the things he did.
All she did was yell. He hated yelling.

As he stared up at the dimmed lights, he thought about how much better it would be to have them not interfere with his life. How much more peaceful it would be, with them not there.

He couldn’t deny the logic, with them gone, he would be able to do what he wanted. There would be no one there to criticize him if he made mistakes, no one there to yell at him for banging his head against the floor.
It would be peaceful.

Patrick stood up, wanting to see how his baby sister was doing.

Sandra Mason hated her little brother Patrick. Hated. Him. She was fourteen years old, for Christ sake, and her parents had left her to babysit the freak! Sandra wanted to scream at how unfair the world was right now.

Right now… Right now the little pest was just staring at poor Piper. She had noticed, of course, how Patrick would never look anyone in the eyes except for Piper. God, he was so annoying.

Sandra laid on the couch, staring at her little brother and sister. She couldn’t understand why Patrick was so… so, un normal. Disrupting their normal family life with his ‘episodes’.

Always folding that stupid paper of his, always filling the house with stupid paper animals, always screaming, always banging his stupid little head.
God, how she hated him.

“It says here that the older child, Cassandra, was the first to go.” The nurse says, pursing her lips as she reads over the the file.

“That would be correct.” The doctor sighs. He had gone over this all before, of course. “Though according to the files she was never very nice to the kid.”

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“That is no excuse!” The young nurse exclaims, sending the Doctor an annoyed look.

“I never says it was.”

Patrick stared into his little sisters eyes and smiled.
He loved his little sister.

He was just about to pick up his paper and start on something new, when his tummy rumbled.

Patrick frowned, looking down at his stomach with an almost accusing glare, before getting up and waling silently over the the couch where he knew his older sister was laying.

“Cassandra, I’m hungry.” He whispers.

Sandra’s eyes snapped towards him with a glare that almost made him gulp.

“My name is Sandra.” She sneered.


Sandra knew she shouldn’t have done it. Her mother had told her it was a bad idea, but in that moment she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried.
She was no Liar.

Sandra grabbed Patrick by the arm and tried to drag him up to his room, away from her.

She should have known.

Patrick froze. Sandra had just touched him. She was still touching him.


Patrick lost it. He started screaming, hitting, kicking. Doing everything in his might to get away.

But Sandra wouldn’t let go.

Patrick grabbed his scissors from the table and, with all his strength, rammed it into his older sisters stomach.

She should have known not to touch him.

Patrick smiled.

When his parents came home, the almost collapsed on the floor at the sight of their teenage daughter laying in a pool of her own blood.

Patrick was nowhere to be found, bet they knew, knew, that he had done it.
It wasn’t because of the obvious trashed room, or even the fact that Piper was also gone, but because of the simple fact the Sandra’s open stomach was filled with little Origami cats.

“So he fills his victims with these paper animals?” The nurse asks, again tucking the stray hair from her face.

“Origami animals, and yes.” The doctor replies, taking a sip of coffee.
“And what of the little girl? The baby? Piper?” The nurse asks,

“She was sendt to the St. Elizabeth’s home for girls, town town. But, it’s a little ironic isn’t it?” The doctor chuckles slightly.

“What is?”

“The baby’s name, of course. Piper, Paper?” The doctor laughs.

“That’s not funny, sir.” The nurse sends the doctor a glare.

“I thought it was. A little bit.”

The nurse huffs.

Suddenly a group of security guards come running towards them, all looking stressed out and a little… scared?

“What’s the matter?” The doctor immediately asks, a look of concern on his face.

“We checked the security tapes, sir, and the patient here in room 206, the paper boy, Patrick Mason, isn’t there!”

“What? That’s impossible! We’ve been standing here this whole time!” The doctor looks at the guard like he’s crazy.

“I’m telling you the truth, Sir. If you don’t believe me, check for yourself.” The guard says, a little annoyed.

The doctor does.

Patrick is not there.

Two days later came the rapport of a break in at the local orphanage. No one was harmed, but one little girl was reported missing.

Credit To – MentholCherry

About the Author

Not much is known about Brian Z. Some say it's because he is secretly preparing for the Z poc, others say it's because of the "incident" at Chicago Walker Stalker Con. All that we know for certain is he loves sci-fi, horror, and zombies.

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