Scary Stories to Chill Your Bones

Red Paint

Anytime someone asked seven-year-old Grant what his favorite color was, he didn't even have to think about his answer. "Red," he would say, giving whoever asked him a big smile.

One warm day in June, Grant and his mom were shopping in the outdoor mall by their house. "Okay, Grant," Grant's mom said to him as they were just about to leave the mall. "I'm going to go to the bathroom. I want you to stay right here by the door. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Mommy," Grant said, giving his mom a smile that was missing two teeth.

"Okay," his mom said with a smile. "I'll be right out."

While Grant was waiting for his mom to come out of the bathroom, he looked around. The mall was shaped like a square, each of its sides about a mile long and eight feet tall. There were shops lining the perimeter of the mall, and in the center, there were several tables, benches, and potted plants. The sky was clear and cyan, the sun shining brightly. There were many people bustling around . . . And one heading straight for Grant.

The man was tall, with close-cropped, black hair. He was wearing dark sunglasses and a black suit. Grant, who was wearing a white t-shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals, figured that the man must be burning up. But the man looked quite comfortable, smiling as he walked up to Grant.

"Young man," the tall man said to Grant. "What is your favorite color?"

"Red," Grant answered immediately.

"Well," the tall man said. "Do you see that wall straight across from us?" The man pointed to the wall, which was blank brick without a store inhabiting its space. Grant nodded. "Well, I was thinking about painting a mural on it. You know, since there isn't a store there. I was thinking that a rainbow would look nice up there. What do you think?"

"That sounds great," Grant said, smiling. He loved rainbows, and would enjoy seeing a painting of one every time his mom dragged him to the mall.

"There's just one problem," the man said. "I don't have any red paint. I have all of the other colors of the rainbow, but no red." The corners of the man's mouth turned down in self pity. "That, however, will not be a problem. I just need your help, young man."

"Of course," Grant said, eager to help the man paint a rainbow.

In an instant, the corners of the man's mouth turned up again, his friendly smile changing to a sinister one. Reaching into his suit jacket, he drew out a long knife that ended in a deadly point. "Don't worry, young man. We'll get that mural up on the wall. And we don't even need red paint. I know something that will work much better."