Gemotions

The scissors glinted in her hand. Sarah stared at the drawing of Bartholomew, propped up against the kitchen counter. Her niece's crayon depiction was cheerful. The blue was bright. The mismatched eyes were as unsettling as she remembered. She gripped the handles, her knuckles white.

She had spent years trying to forget. Trying to move past the memories of Bartholomew, of the strange occurrences that had followed his "visits" in her childhood. Now, it was here again.

Slowly, carefully, she sliced through the paper, the scissor's edge leaving a sharp line. The drawing was gone, but the echo remained.