“Check these out!” Cassidy waved a set of pink paper fingernails under my nose. “Betcha can’t catch me with these customized nails!”
I picked my eleven-year-old niece Cassidy up from track practice after my warehouse shift on weekdays. At first I’d only agreed to it to help my brother, who was barely keeping his head above water between his family and work, but I’d come to appreciate the daily car ride with my niece. She took care of all the conversation herself, and something about listening to her helped me decompress–
Even if I didn’t understand half of what she talked about.
Cassidy’s latest obsession was making fake fingernails out of literally anything–from tape and post-it notes to screws or snack chips. I figured it was some dumb trend from TikTok–
But still, it creeped me the hell out, pulling up to Cassidy’s middle school and seeing all those packs of kids walking around with what looked like homemade claws.
After a few days, though, I got used to Cassidy’s fake paper fingernails–
And when she showed up without them, I noticed.
For once, Cassidy didn’t start talking right away. She slammed the car door and stared at her pinched-tight knees.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Where are your uh, fingernails?”
“Lost’em.” Cassidy shrugged. It was the only thing said during the whole ride home. The knees of Cassidy’s jeans were dirty, and there was a scrape on her palm.
The next day, Cassidy wasn’t standing where I usually picked her up by the corner of the Middle School. I rolled down the window to call for her, but as I did. I heard a young girl’s cackling laughter. Three girls I thought I recognized from Cassidy’s class came striding around the corner, giving me the stink-eye as they crossed to the park. A few minutes later, Cassidy came storming around the corner and got into my car. This time, she didn’t say anything.
“Cas…what’s going on?” I tried again. My niece shook her head. “I know something’s wrong. Cas–you gotta talk to me!” When I grabbed her chin and made her look up, I saw tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Those girls…” Cassidy sniffed.
By the fence at the entrance to the park, one of the girls waved to us with Cassidy’s hot-pink paper nails.
“Hey!” I got out of the car, hands on my hips, too angry to think straight. The three girls scattered, giggling, and I realized the position I was in. I’m a 6’3, heavyset guy with a beard–what was I gonna do, chase some twelve-year-girls through a park? I clenched my fists and got back into the car.
When I dropped Cassidy off at home, I talked to my brother Sam about what I’d seen–but he was so tired I don’t think he even heard me.
No matter how much I pleaded, Cassidy refused to name the girls…but I could see the light and joy going out of her day by day. It had been a long time since I’d felt so powerless.
Until today.
This afternoon, Cassidy practically skipped to the car and started telling me about her day as soon as she hopped inside. The change was…almost frightening.
Then again, I had seen any of those girls around either. I figured that might be the cause of my niece’s sudden cheerfulness.
“–but Alexis won’t be bothering any of us anymore now that she’s suspended–” Cassidy was rambling. I realized that she’d just accidentally dropped the name of one of her bullies.
“Oh?” I tried to sound uninterested. “How’d that happen?”
“I gave her some new nails and she got in trouble.” Cassidy shrugged. If she was trying to look innocent, I wasn’t fooled. There was more to the story than that, but I didn’t get anything else out of her until we pulled into my brother’s driveway. Both of her parents met us at the door for a chance.
“My God, honey–are you alright?!” my sister-in-law grabbed Cas’ face, caressed her hair…
“Did you see it?” my brother asked.
“See what?” I was completely confused.
“Some kid scratched the hell out of one of Cas’ teachers. She’s in the hospital with these gouge-marks all over her, like she was attacked by a damn mountain lion…it was all over the news…”
I shot Cassiday a dark glance.
“Do you know which teacher got hurt?” My sister-in-law wondered.
“Ms. Kurtz.” Cassidy responded. I remembered that name. The math teacher, the one who Cassidy said was always picking on her…
“Was it Alexis who hurt Ms. Kurtz?” I demanded. Cas went pale.
“Yeah.” Now she was trying to sound casual. “Yeah. That’s right.”
I gave her some new nails and she got in trouble…
“Cassidy…” I began. “Can you show me those new nails you gave Alexis?”
“Well I mean I could, but like, why? You don’t care about stuff like that…” Cassidy clenched her backpack and tried to go inside the house, but my brother blocked her.
“Let’s see’em, Cas.”
Reluctantly, Cas took out a small oval box from her bag. It was peach, the color of bright light shining through skin, and uncomfortably warm to the touch. I wondered where on earth Cassidy had found such a thing.
The ivory-colored clasp gave way beneath my thumb. Inside was a multicolored variety of high-end fake nails. I was fascinated by them. The blue nails were the color of the sky on the last day of summer. The red ones had a golden pattern I’d seen before, on the dress of a woman in a dream. The green ones–
“Who gave you these?” My sister-in-law continued her interrogation.
“The woman…” Cassidy whispered. Something in her voice snapped me out of my reverie.
“What woman?!”
“The woman in the woods, behind the school. She said if I gave them to Alexis and those girls, they’d never bother me again…”
I felt the blood rush out of my face. Behind Cassidy’s middle school was nothing but forest. There was no reason for any adult to be back there. Not unless–
“I don’t have time for this…” My brother rubbed his forehead in irritation.
“Give’em to me.” I sighed. “I’ll look into it.”
Driving home, my eyes kept drifting to the weird oval box in my passenger’s seat. The whole situation was just too strange. Cassidy hadn’t been able to tell us anything more about ‘the woman behind the school–’
In fact, she said she couldn’t even remember when she’d met her or what she looked like, and I knew my Cas–there was no lie in her wide, haunted blue eyes.
When I got home, I left the box of fingernails in the bathroom and did some more digging. Apparently, Alexis’s mother Sarah Holmstead was active in the Parent-Teacher Association–
And her phone number was listed on Facebook.
“What do you want?!” a hoarse voice picked up the phone on the second ring. “My daughter and I aren’t giving any interviews, and I don’t give a damn about your goddamn opinion about this family!” Alexis’ mother sobbed.
“Mrs. Holmstead…” I ventured. “I don’t think what happened was Alexis’ fault.” That got me a long silence. “I’m Cassidy Laing’s uncle.”
“Oh, Cassidy.” There was another long pause. “Look, Mr. Laing, I’m aware that our girls aren’t exactly friends. Alexis is a firecracker, I’ve told her time and again to be more thoughtful about how she treats people, but this…” Sarah Holmstead burst into tears again “…the police say that poor woman will be permanently disfigured! They want to press criminal charges!”
“What did Alexis have to say about what happened?”
“She was horrified! She says it wasn’t her. That she put on these fake nails and they just…acted on their own…”
“Honey?” my girlfriend Kate called from the bathroom, “where did you get these? They’re really cute!” She walked into the living room with a shining set of lilac clip-on nails on her fingers.
“I’ll call you back.” I whispered into the phone, then turned on my girlfriend. “Where did you get those?!”
“The box in the bathroom…” Kate sat at the kitchen table, blowing on her tea. “What’s the big deal?” she drummed her new nails irritably on the formica. Or did she? Kate was staring at her hand. Her fingernails tapped against the table again.
Something about the way they moved reminded me of a rabid dog straining against its chain.
“I…I’m not…” Kate stammered, suddenly tugging on her new nails, “…they won’t come off!” Kate’s fingers writhed like the tentacles of some deep-sea creature as they tried to evade her other hand. Just watching it made me feel sick. I pressed her hand into the table and tried to keep her squirming fingers still. I finally caught a nail, and as the others dug into my hand, I pulled.
“No!” Kate screamed. “They’re connected!” Looking closer, I saw that she was right: the lilac clip-ons had tunneled through her cuticle somehow, and even her veins had turned a faint shade of purple.
But I was more concerned with freeing my hand from the razor-sharp fingertips that had disappeared inside the flesh of my palm.
It was only with a scream and a sickening splatter that I was able to pull away. I put all my weight onto Kate’s hand, but I couldn’t hold her down.
Once free, Kate’s lilac nails slashed and stabbed at me like five tiny knives. They dragged Kate around the kitchen after me while she tried to hold back her own hand.
The situation would have been funny if it wasn’t so terrifying.
I blocked those glistening, blood-spattered purple claws with a bamboo cutting board, but another swipe flung it away. I shoved Kate away with a stool and dived into the laundry room, putting a solid wooden door between my girlfriend’s insane new fingers and I. No sooner had I shoved my against it than raking blows began to hammer it from the other side.
With each strike, the hinges splintered a little more–and Kate screamed. The nails didn’t care how much pain they put her through in their attempt to get to me.
On the other side of the door, the pounding finally stopped–
And was followed by a low, sick gurgle. I’d never heard anything like it before.
I knew I’d be a fool to open the door, but the silence from Kate was more frightening than her screaming had been. What the hell could be making that noise?!
“…Kate?” I ventured. But that sick burbling noise only intensified. I couldn’t take it anymore. With only a mop handle to protect myself with, I burst back into the kitchen.
I found Kate slumped against the wall with her own fingers buried in her throat–
Up to the knuckle.
With an awful squelching sound, Kate’s hand pulled itself away from her throat and began dragging her limp body toward me. This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening. I backed out through the laundry room toward the garage, stumbling over my unwashed work clothes and the fallen mop bucket, barely seeing where I was going as I fled to my car.
“Were there any more?!” I screamed into the speakerphone at my brother, as I sped toward his home on the other side of town. “Did Cassidy give out any other fake nails?!”
“I’ll ask.” My brother groaned. I’d clearly woken him. “She’s been in her room all night. Says she’s felt sick ever since she met that woman behind the school…you sound bad, man. You alright?”
“Just ask her.” I hissed, and counted the heartbeats until my brother came back to the phone.
“Cas says she gave’em to two other girls. Alexis’ friends…why? what’s going on?”
“Get their addresses and call the police. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
When I arrived, Cassidy was groggy. She said she’d never heard about any “woman in the woods” or given out any strange clip-on nails. It was just a thing on TikTok, she mumbled–then rolled over and went back to sleep.
By morning, even the nails themselves were gone.
Gone from the bloody, mutilated fingers of Alexis and her friends.
Gone from Kate’s corpse.
Even the weird, peach-colored box had disappeared from my bathroom.
After a syrupy pancake breakfast, Cassidy was humming cheerfully.
She didn’t remember a thing.
Sleepless and numb, I looked up from my cup of black coffee and shared a silent nod with my brother. And we’d make sure that no one found out. Not ever.
That’s why I’ve changed the names, ages, and occupations of the people involved, but I still feel I have to share the warning while I still can:
If you find a pair of fake nails that aren’t yours…
Leave them where they lie.