One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Mr. Stitches by Alicia Dean
Fun Fact:
Have you ever had an imaginary friend? In the dedication of this story, I mention an imaginary friend I had when I was a child. I was about three, I think, and I was in the car and my mom was backing out of the driveway. I screamed out, “Stop! You ran over my friend.” My mom was horrified and slammed on the brakes. She asked what friend and I said, “Janie Watson. I buried her in the driveway.” Which is ridiculous, because how did a three-year-old dig through concrete?
About Mr. Stitches:
A desperate act should have freed Lauren from her past—but instead, it awakens something far worse. As her son’s stuffed animal whispers and bodies begin to fall, Lauren learns the terrifying truth: Mr. Stitches wants more than love… he wants a family of his own.
Excerpt:
“You sleeping?” Wyatt asked quietly in the kitchen.
She shrugged. “Some.” She leaned against the counter. The words came out before she could stop them. “He was on my dresser last night.”
Wyatt’s head snapped toward her. “Who was?”
“The toy.”
Silence stretched between them. “Yeah, so? Easton must’ve—”
“My door was locked.”
Wyatt’s brow furrowed. “Kids unlock things.”
“He doesn’t have a key.”
Wyatt didn’t respond immediately. Instead he looked toward the living room. “There has to be a reasonable explanation.”
“I don’t know. There’s something off about him.”
“About who, Easton?”
She shook her head impatiently. “The elephant. Mr. Stitches.”
Something shifted in his expression. “That’s his name, Mr. Stitches? Where did the toy come from?”
Lauren huffed. “Ryder gave it to him. When he went to see him at school.”
Wyatt gasped.
“What?” she asked.
Wyatt didn’t answer. He fixed his gaze on the living room toward the elephant. He slowly walked over to Easton. “Who named your elephant?”
Easton frowned. “Nobody. He told me his name.”
Wyatt went completely still. His face drained of color.
“Wyatt?” Lauren asked. “What’s wrong?”
“We called him that.”
“Who?”
“Ryder. That’s what we used to call Ryder. He was always getting hurt. Sports injuries. Fights. Dumb stuff. Always having to be stitched up. So we called him Stitches.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“What?”
Easton smiled faintly. “He knew you’d remember.”
Wyatt stepped back. “When your dad gave this to you, did he tell you the elephant’s name?”
Easton shook his head.
Lauren’s voice came out shaky. “The toy was named Mr. Peanuts. But…but Easton said the elephant told him to call him Mr. Stitches.”
Wyatt frowned. “That’s weird as fuck.”
“Language,” she said automatically.
Easton scowled. “Mr. Stitches says you better be careful.”
Lauren’s skin prickled. The elephant’s crooked button eye seemed almost… centered now. Watching.
About the Author:
Alicia Dean lives in Edmond, Oklahoma where she enjoys writing dark and creepy stories. Her other passions are Elvis Presley, true crime, MLB, NFL and watching too much TV.
Author Alicia Dean 