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If you hear a nursery rhyme called Snippity Snap, you need to read this as a matter of life and death. [FINAL]

Just joining us? I recommend starting at the beginning. Too far back? You can read the previous transcript here.

“No,” she says. “I’m better off doing what I’ve been doing all along. Keeping Snippity Snap satisfied. Offering it people that nobody’s going to look for. People nobody gives a fuck about.” She steps away, and a moment later the dim, flickering kitchen light goes out.
Then, from somewhere in the darkness I hear her voice. “Do it, Ryan.”
Ryan grabs my hand in a flash, pulling the scissors down from my throat and closing them on my index finger.
"Snippity Snap,” Becca chants beside me. “You’ll come back!”

The pain of the shears slashing my fingers is dull, faded against the backdrop of my boiling adrenaline.
Ryan has one of my hands, and I’m quite certain he could overpower me even without Becca’s help, but I still have my service weapon. It’s on the side of my torso, inside my jacket. With my free hand, it’d be an awkward reach, but if I could get to it before they realized what I was doing...
“It’s not working,” Ryan says, and I faintly see blood running down my finger. My eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness. “I did what you said, Becca. I cut up my finger in the bathroom earlier, to get her to cross over and--”
“Did she?” Becca barks.
“I don’t know,” he says, panicked. “Maybe. I mean, I thought so but--”
“But what?”
“I didn’t want her to get me.”
“For fucks sake!” she shrieks. “If you want to be a part of this, then you need to grow a pair, you pussy! Snippity Snap listens to me. She’ll take whoever I offer it!"
“I’m sorry, Bec.”
I faintly see Becca grab Ryan’s wrist, and the next second I feel her smaller hand grab my own. “Hold him still!” she commands. "Can you at least do that right?"
Ryan shuffles around me, and I realize that my window to draw my weapon and get out of this situation is quickly deteriorating.
Time to act.
I take a sharp breath and lunge sideways, reaching for my sidearm, but Ryan’s quicker. He tackles me to the ground and grabs both of my arms, wrestling them behind my back and holding them there.
“Fucking christ…” I mutter, my face pressed against the cold linoleum. I’m beginning to wonder if Becca’s father even lives here. Or if he’s even still alive.
A shoe rests on my face, and I hear Becca’s shrill laughter. “You strutted in here thinking you were hot shit, didn’t you? You thought that just because big daddy government handed you a job working at their spooky old Facility, that you were beyond the reach of monsters.” Her sneaker kicks me in the cheek, and I feel pain blossom across my face.
“Let me tell you a secret,” she says, and I realize her voice is closer now, nearly against my ear. “You’re not beyond the reach of the monsters. In fact, you’re going to meet one very shortly.”
I hear her reposition herself. She grabs my finger while Ryan holds my arms tight behind my back. “Let’s try this again,” she says, closing the scissors on my finger and drawing blood. “Snippity Snap, you’ll come back!”
I grimace, my mind reeling. I curse myself for getting pulled in by a couple of teenagers. If I manage to get out of here, I’ll never underestimate an informant again. “Please,” I mumble, my mouth pressed against the floor. “There’s another way to deal with Snippity Snap.”
Another cut. This one deeper. Much deeper. I slam my eyes shut, roaring in agony. Maybe a neighbor will hear me, or maybe somebody will walk down the street and investigate. I holler again, shouting my lungs raw.
“Aw, he thinks somebody’s going to hear him,” Becca says in a doting voice. “Unfortunately, unlike you, I actually came here with a plan. You probably noticed the 'For Sale' sign on the house next door. That means nobody’s home. As for my other neighbor, they’re on vacation upsate.”
She crouches down in front of me and jams the wet tea rag into my mouth. “I’m just putting this here to shut you up, because I can't stand the sound of wimps.”
I struggle, but my voice is muffled and non-existent.
“As for your earlier statement,” Becca says, rising to her feet. “There’s no other way to deal with Snippity Snap. All you have are theories, and one botched theory means I’m dead.” She steps around me and reaches down, grabbing my finger again. The scissors close. Another cut. Another muffled roar of pain. “Personally, I’d prefer it if you died instead.”
Ryan howls with laughter. “This is going to be so amazing, Beccs. I can’t wait to see Snippity Snap.”
“You already have,” she growls, cutting me again. “Snippity Snap, you’ll come back!”
“No,” he says, and his voice sounds panicked, insulted. “I’ve only seen the photo! I wish I could’ve been there when you killed Ben in his basement. You looked like you were having so much fun.”
“Well if you didn’t bitch out earlier, Snippity Snap would already be here!” Three more cuts in rapid succession. Her chants are growing angrier, more frustrated. “Where the fuck is she? Get over here, Delvine, you stupid cunt! Take this offering!”
I spit out the rag, coughing. I’m beginning to feel lightheaded from the bloodloss. “That whole story you fed me about the house party and the--”
“All bullshit,” Ryan says gleefully. “I sold it pretty good though, didn’t I? I wasn’t lying when I said it was a real picture of Snippity Snap, though. It was, it just wasn’t me who took it.”
I feel the blood soaking through the back of my jacket. How much have I lost already? Too much. I struggle, but Ryan tightens his hold.
“So what,” I grunt. “You grabbed the dead kid’s phone, and then played it off like you took the picture?”
“That’s right,” Ryan says, and Becca keeps cutting. “We figured we might attract some weirdos interested in the paranormal -- some awkward kids with no friends. The sorta kid that nobody would bat an eye about dying in some fucked ritual, because they probably did it to themselves.”
“Instead,” Becca says, her voice thick with disbelief. “You contacted him. The fucking Facility. It was honestly dumbfounding, I really didn’t think we’d sold it that well, but apparently it was good enough to fool you dimwits.”
Damnit. I had it all backwards. Snippity Snap wasn’t the monster. It was these two, and if I didn’t get out of here somehow, they were going to cause the deaths of more innocent people. I wrack my mind, trying to formulate a plan. If I could just reach my pistol…
Fuck. No, Ryan’s too strong. I need to think of a way around him. Think, damnit. What do I know about the situation?
I know Becca can’t be reasoned with. If she didn’t already prove that before, she’s certainly proven it now. Ryan on the other hand seems different, almost like he’s being manipulated along for the ride in Becca’s master plan. If I can get through to him, then I might have a chance.
“Please, Ryan,” I say in a measured voice. “I can get you the support you need. If you stop this now we can put it behind us, and that means no prison and no charges. You only need to let me go and--”
I scream.
I scream so hard that my throat becomes raw and my body writhes in anguish, my eyes sting as they let loose a torrent of tears and my adrenaline spikes, causing my legs to kick out and my torso to twist violently.
Snip,” Becca says. She grabs my face, stuffing my amputated finger into my mouth. “That’s enough talking from you.” I choke on it for a moment before spitting it out, bawling in pain. All I taste is blood and flesh.
“Snippity Snap,” Becca calls. “You’ll come back!”
Then I hear it.
It arrives over the sound of my whimpering agony. The sound of two giant shears opening and closing. Snip. Snap. Snip. Snap. My pain dulls in the face of my racing heart, and mounting panic.
“Becca,” Ryan breathes. “Look--”
“I see it, dumbass.” Becca steps in front of me, and I see the blue of her jeans, just barely in the inky blackness. “Snippity Snap,” she loudly proclaims. “I offer you this life in exchange for my own!”
The scissors open and close. Snip. Snap. Then, it speaks. It speaks in that terrible, sharp and jagged sewing machine voice Becca described. I have no idea what it says, but Becca steps back. “Thank you,” she says. “Hold him still, Ryan.”
I crane my neck, and I can see it. A shadow in the dark, save for its two gleaming steel shears, and those many eyes, swimming inside of its flesh-sewn mouth. It speaks again, that whirring, terrible sewing machine ramble.
“Hope,” I choke, desperate enough to try anything. “Hope Delvine, right? I know it’s you in there. I know you think it’s worth it, these blood offerings, but Becca Galdun’s the one who’s chained you here. She’s the one who ripped you out of your after life, and brought you here to make people suffer. Just--”
Becca’s foot connects with my face, and I hear a sharp crack. The pain tells me my cheekbone just fractured, badly enough that I can feel blood trailing down my jaw, but it’s hardly a consideration. I keep talking. I have to, because it's all I have left. “Please, Hope! You are not an evil person. You were an innocent woman who was murdered by her husband!”
Snip. Snap.
Snip. Snap.
“Ryan,” Becca shouts. “Shut him up for fuck sakes!”
I feel Ryan lift his hand from my wrist, clambering toward my face and that’s when I move. It’s the only moment I’ll ever have. I roll over, my hand darting inside my jacket and even as Ryan grabs me by my hair and smashes my skull against the linoleum floor, it’s already too late.
I feel cold steel in my grip.
There’s a loud bang and a blinding flash, and Ryan stumbles off of me with a look of confusion on his face.
I pull the trigger again, and he drops.
Becca rushes at me, but I swing my hand back and bash her across the face with the pistol grip. She crumples to the floor. I only look at her for a moment, my breath heaving in my chest, before my attention is pulled toward the real danger. The creature moving closer.
Snip. Snap.
Snip. Snap.
I study it, wrestling against my fight or flight response and trying to determine a game plan. I could run, I think to myself. The creature’s not moving that quickly, with its crooked legs and twisted spine. I have little doubt that I could physically escape it, but to what end?
What happens once I leave? Does it follow me?
No. Too many variables. I raise my firearm, pointing it at the monster. My finger trembles on the trigger. I could dump a clip of bullets into Snippity Snap and blow the creature away. I’d fire them straight down its throat, into that flesh-sewn mouth, and its hundred white eyes.
No. That won’t work either, because the truth is Snippity Snap isn’t the real monster here.
My eyes drift to Becca, she's groaning on the ground, a hand against her battered jaw. She lurches up to her hands and knees. Her expression is difficult to make out in the darkness. Not that I need to. Her growls paint a pretty picture all by themselves.
She’s angry. She hates me right now. Good.
“KILL HIM!” Becca screams at Snippity Snap. “I summoned you to present my offering! Now accept it, you ungrateful bitch!”
Snip. Snap.
Snip. Snap.
A thought occurs to me between the snap of the shears and Becca’s shrill demands for blood. It’s true that Becca did summon Snippity here. In fact, she’d summoned it here the same way she’d summoned it the first time she tore Hope’s soul from the ether and chained it to this world.
She’d made this creature a reality by uttering the first lines of Hope’s poem; the old nursery rhyme she’d written before being murdered by her husband.
Snippity Snap, you’ll come back
Needles you’ll pin but it’s
Remorse you lack
Snippity Snap, please don’t come hack
There’s silence here
Until the machine click-clacks
Snippity Snap
Snippity
Back
It’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got left. I step toward Becca, my pistol pointing at her while my other hand gestures to the scissors in her hand. “Give them to me,” I order.
“Fuck you!”
I pull back on the cocking hammer. “Give them to me or I blow your brains all over the kitchen floor.” I glance at Ryan’s corpse, jerking my head toward it. “You can join him. I've got plenty of bullets left, and you did seem like good friends."
There’s a glint of defiance in her eyes, but I think she realizes Snippity Snap isn’t moving fast enough to get to me in time. She knows I’ve got nothing to lose. If I die, so does she.
She slides the scissors across the floor. I keep my pistol steadied on her as I reach down to pick them up. In my peripheral, I track the creature Hope Delvine’s become. It shambles toward me slowly, it’s voice speaking in that mechanical whir. I wonder if it’s begging me to put it out of its misery.
I step away from it, into the black hallway. As I do, I sling my fingers through the scissor grips. I bring the blades to my hand, still holding the pistol, and extend my undamaged index finger.
"Here goes nothing," I mutter.
I close the scissors on my flesh, cutting across my finger and loudly announce. “Snippity Snap, Snippity Back!”
The creature takes another step.
Snip. Snap.
Snip. Snap.
Then another heavy, plodding footfall.
Becca rolls back her head, laughing. “You think I haven’t tried that? You dipshit, this is exactly why I didn’t want to accept your help! You’d only get me killed.”
Damnit. It was a hail mary, but I thought maybe if the first lines had summoned the creature, then the last ones could send it back.
I spit out a mouthful of blood. Shooting Hope feels wrong, given her tortured existence, and beyond that it’s probably pointless. She's not living, after all. My only real move is to run. To get away, return to the Facility and come back with some reinforcements to deal with this creature.
Yeah. That could work. I take another step back, into the pitch darkness of the hallway.
“You don’t get it do you,” Becca sneers. “There’s no escaping it once you’ve been offered. You think you’re the first person to outrun it? It always comes back. Always. It’ll Snap you the moment you rest those tired eyes.”
I snarl, my finger twitching on the trigger and desperate to put six rounds into Becca’s head. She deserves to die for everything she’s done -- for the willing horror she’s inflicted on so many, and the gleeful torment she put me through. Still, there’s a dilemma in that.
If she was the one who created this monster, then perhaps she needs to be one to end it. She needs to offer herself to Snippity Snap to end this curse once and for all.
If she dies without Snippity taking its toll, then who knows if there’s even a way to put that genie back in the bottle. The creature could roam the world forever, snapping people until the end of time.
Snip. Snap.
Its feet plod forward, slapping against the floor with each step while its scissors drag behind it, squealing as they carve up the linoleum. As it passes the kitchen table, the creature suddenly stops.
I blink, not sure what’s going on. Evidently, neither is Becca. She stares up at Snippity Snap, only six or seven feet away, slackjawed with a lost look on her face.
Snippity's head tilts downward, and its hundred eyes begin vibrating in horrid excitement. Again, the mechanical whir of its voice starts up, except this time it gets louder and louder, like it's screaming in anticipation.
It’s standing above Ryan Halflows corpse.
No.
It’s not standing above his corpse. Ryan's arm twitches, and he tries to raise himself onto his hands and knees, but he's lost too much blood. He doesn't have the strength. He collapses into a heap upon the floor.
"Beccs," Ryan coughs weakly. A pool of blood lies beneath him. “Call an ambulance... and tell Snippity to get away--”
Snip.
There’s a thud, and Ryan’s messy head of hair rolls across the kitchen floor. Becca shrieks, crawling away from the creature and toward me in the hallway.
I point the gun at her and fire.
Once.
Twice.
She drops, blood leaking from an arm. Fuck, I missed her other one. Tears escape her face, and this time I know they’re genuine. “Please,” she begs me. “Please help me!”
My sympathy’s run out. She stumbles to her feet, as Snippity Snap starts plodding forward again.
Snip. Snap.
Snip. Snap.
Again, the kitchen’s illuminated for the briefest of moments by the flash of gunfire. Becca drops, knees bleeding and voice screaming. She squirms on the ground, whimpering as each movement of her arms and legs prove too agonizing to complete. Crippled and broken, she instead starts crawling toward me like a worm.
She’s moving slowly. Or rather, slowly enough.
Behind her, Snippity Snap’s shears open and close, its feet slapping the linoleum with each laboured step.
Snip. Snap.
Snip. Snap.
“You fucking asshole!” Becca shrieks at me. “Your job is to help me, not murder me, you dipshit!”
Her body slides toward me, inch by inch. But it’s not fast enough. A few feet away from her, Snippity Snap takes the first steps into Becca’s trail of blood. It speaks again in that strange, sewing-machine voice, and somehow I sense a level of glee in it.
It’s been waiting for this moment for a long time.
“You murdered me!” Becca screams.
Snippity Snap’s feet step over her, its scissor blades pressing her neck to the floor.
“Don’t you dare think you’re safe! It’ll kill you next! It’ll kill you unless you let me keep it away from you!” Her eyes are wild again, desperate. “I can help you! I can give it other offerings and keep it away from you!”
“All you have are theories,” I say, with an empty voice. “And one botched theory means I’m dead.” I don’t mean to, but a grin slips across my face. “Personally, I’d prefer it if you died instead.”
Snippity's eyes vibrate, and its crooked body trembles as it voice whirs louder and louder.
"Please!" Becca shrieks. "What the fuck are you waiting fo--"
Snap.
Becca’s head rolls toward my feet, bumping against my leather shoe. Her tongue lolls from her mouth, and her messy eyeshadow runs down her cheek, wet from the tears staining her face. For a moment, I see her eyes moving, full of terror and rage, and then they’re still again.
When I look up, Snippity Snap is gone.
I heave a sigh and stumble along the wall before flicking on the dim light. As I pass through the kitchen, I step over the two corpses on the floor, each of them riddled with bullets from my service weapon. For a first gig that started out so promising, it's really gone to shit.
I pass by the table and as I do, I take a sip of my tea. It’s cold now, but I don’t care. I grab a clean rag from the oven handle and wrap my still-bleeding wound. A short distance away from me, I spot my finger on the floor, lying in a pool of three different people's blood. It's pale and pruned and a reminder of just how arrogant I was in underestimating Becca Galdun.
I pick it up and put it in my pocket.
My fingers find the handles of several drawers, pulling them open and slamming them closed, one after another. I sift though four or five before I find what I'm looking for: a plastic baggy. I fish some ice out of Becca's freezer, and then drop my amputated digit inside before sealing it shut.
Groaning, I sit back down in my chair.
My eyes drift around the crime scene. Two high schoolers shot dead, riddled with bullets and beheaded, with the only weapons in sight being a pair of scissors and a firearm registered under my name. Oh, and I'm also covered in both of their blood.
The situation doesn't give me much leeway in terms of making an alibi, particularly when said alibi involves an urban legend with scissors for arms.
On the other hand, it's likely the Facility could sweep this under the rug for me. They've done more for messier Events in the past, after all. They'd have to call in several favors, and they wouldn't be particularly pleased about it, but they'd do it.
For them, it's better than the alternative. If the public gets a whiff that there really are monsters under their beds, it'll lead to widespread civil unease. Panic in the streets. Rioting.
I take another sip of cold tea. It's bitter.
Worst yet, there’d be others like Ryan and Becca. People seeking to wield these monsters, or follow them.
The Facility wouldn't let that happen. They need the monsters to be an exclusive resource, and one that only they have access to. It's the most effective way to weaponize them.
I shake my head. My conscience roars inside of me and it only takes a moment before I realize I can't go back there. I can't go back to work.
If I did, I'd have to hand in my report and give a statement on the Event. Once that happened, it'd probably take them a matter of hours before they tore Hope's soul back through the ether, and sentenced her to another lifetime of torment and death.
No. I can't do that, but with the Facility's resources, I can't just hand in my letter of resignation either. They won't let me go so easily. Not until I give up what I know and tell them how to summon Snippity Snap.
While it's true they might be able to glean most of the ritual from the details I've provided here, I intentionally left out a key component. The fact is, that I never intended for this to be a how-to manual, but rather a warning.
That leaves me just one option: I hit the road. I disappear and make a new life, under a new identity, and hopefully never hear the words ‘Snippity Snap’ ever again.
In the meantime, I figure I'll post this. In case something happens to me, I think the public deserves to know that I wasn’t the monster here; Becca Galdun was. She chose a life of murder over a chance at salvation.
Hell, maybe she was right, and maybe I couldn’t help her. I guess I'll never know, and neither will she. All I know is she wasn't even willing to give me a shot. I gave her four.
Oh, and if you hear anybody singing the Snippity Snap nursery rhyme, do yourself a favor and make sure they don’t have a pair of scissors with them. If they do, you could be in for a long night, and a short life.
Stay safe. Until next time.

[x.x]
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