The Bed Scissor

I was giving a tour of my art studio apartment to a new friend a while ago, when we got to my bedroom they noticed a small wooden chest nestled amongst the pillows on my bed and inquired about its purpose.

“Oh, that's just for my bed scissors”. I continued on with the tour.

I turned around after noticing the silence that had crept into the room and saw my friend was still standing there, staring at the box, perplexed.

“Your …what now? What do you mean by your ‘bed scissors’ ?”

“My bed scissors. You know, the scissors I use to make art while in bed. I sleep with them .”

Confusion turns to frustration and concern. “Bed scissors are not a ‘thing’ ! You can't sleep with scissors that's so dangerous!” they exclaimed.

This is not the first time someone has become anxious and distraught about the discovery of my odd sleeping habits . In fact , every person that enters my room comments on the peculiarity of my practice of sleeping with a pair of so-called “bed scissors”.

As children many people will sleep with something that comforts them, a teddy bear or cherished blanket. This comfort protects from the things that go bump in the night, the things we cannot see or explain. Our parents tell us not to worry, that it’s just our imagination running wild. As we get older, we start to fear bigger things. More than our imagination, we fear jealous lovers with "lost" keys, intruders, sketchy landlords or other monsters of our past and present. The teddy bear might one day turn into a baseball bat, or even a gun or knife, carefully tucked between the box spring and mattress. Close enough so we can reach, but far enough to protect us from ourselves. While my personal reasons for sleeping with my favourite sharps nearby has more to do with me making art, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that they did make me feel safe by proximity when mysterious sounds or movement happens in the dead of night.

The truth of the matter is, that I do far more drawing, crafting and arts on top of my bed, then I ever have done sleeping in it . My bed is my workshop because I rarely sleep. I’ve battled insomnia and various undiagnosed sleeping disorders since birth. Even as a child I used to sneak scissors into my bed with pens and paper and secretly make art all night while my parents slept . What began as safety scissors at the age of 5 has now upgraded to more heavy duty blades. I was never afraid of the dark, but I welcomed the opportunity to let my imagination be set free while secretly making all kinds of art at night while the rest of the house slept. After many failed attempts to get me to stop, my parents accepted that I was a night owl and that this was when I did my best and most creative work. One day they gifted me a special box , especially for my bed scissors. They had realized that there was no way to control my actions after they’d gone to bed, and the best option they had was give me tools to protect me from myself. The box was wooden and beautiful, with a delicate latch that has to be pressed carefully to be opened. ‘Promise us that you will ALWAYS put the scissors back in their box before you try to go to bed or try to fall asleep’ they would say. A compromise for the bed scissors had finally been reached.

My friend is not comforted in the least by this story. Their eyebrows remain furrowed.

To be clear, yes, of course, I understand why the concept of an unsheathed hinged double blade floating around loose in my bed while I toss and turn all night might concern someone. Still, I try to reassure my friend that

‘while they are definitely the sharpest pair of scissors I own, there is a delicate latch on the chest that only unlocks in a specific way, and not once have I ever accidentally cut myself with them. Not when awake nor asleep. My scissors would never hurt me’ .

I reiterate again and again that they are perfectly safe living in their little wooden chest amongst my pillows.

“I can’t explain it, but these scissors are truly special. Nothing bad has ever happened to me before with them, and I know that they mean no harm."

My friend makes some light-hearted jokes about the absurdity of my assertion that my bed scissors could have a personality or feelings or a will to cut or not to cut whom and when they choose.

" I’ve long suspected that they’re just haunted so I wouldn’t make fun or disrespect my scissors if I were you.” I warn. ‘After all, who wants a haunted pair of scissors to be mad at them?’.

I open the small wooden chest to show off my prized possession, but , curiously, the chest is empty.

“Strange….this has never happened before.”

“See! They could be ANYWHERE. You’re going to roll over them and impale yourself in your sleep.”

“Haha, very funny . . . .now give them back. Where did you put them?” I was sure my friend had hid the scissors when I wasn't looking in order to prove a point. But they insisted this wasn’t the case as we searched high and low around the room.

We tried calling out for them as we looked. I shared some of the many Nicknames I have given them over the years. Rusty, Ryker , Delilah , Edgar, Percival, Rudy , Winifred to name a few. However, no name has ever felt permanent and stuck. It's as though each creative project I use them for , the scissors take on a different energy, personality, a different cutting style, or perhaps even a different ghost.

My bed scissors look as though they have lived many different lives, and had many different owners . Which is perhaps why I've always struggled to name them properly . Like many other neuro divergent people I've met, naming my inanimate objects usually comes effortlessly to me. However, these are no ordinary inanimate object. I cannot explain to you how heavy with life they are. They look haunted, and they feel alive. At a glance, if I told you that I discovered them while exploring an abandoned clothing factory, a condemned asylum, civil war museum artifact, or horror movie prop you’d think it more believable than just finding them in a long forgotten drawer while cleaning out my Grandparents basement workshop. These sharps scream haunted with every fiber of their metallic being. Their original purpose and owner are unknown.

The sound of their voice when they shear through paper is like a guillotine with a crisp Sailor Moon-esk sheen of laser echo of precision. Like a small handheld guillotine, its voice sings as it cuts and glides across paper with a crispness so confident and clean that no fiber dares stray from its path.

We gave up looking for the bed scissors and moved on with the tour and I showed them my second favourite pair of scissors in their stead. My Merchant & Mills studio scissors. They are a fine piece of craftsmanship and are specifically designed for paper. They are wicked sharp, deceptively heavy and have an air of a 1930’s secretary or librarian that you positively should not mess with. These scissors are only used for precision work, when clean edges are needed for cutting out my own drawings from sketchbooks to make collages, putting the final touches on my work or creating intricate details. One of the projects I really love to use these scissors for is taking the horrible toddler drawings of my friends' children and cutting out all the negative spaces and mounting them on black bristol so they don’t have to feel bad about throwing away the scribbles. It creates really interesting designs that make them actually fridge worthy. Toddler collaboration has surprised me in its chaotic beauty. These scissors live on a shelf near my bed in their original box and are incredibly sharp and a fantastic tool, but they still pale in comparison to my precious bed scissors.

“These are your SECOND sharpest scissors.... ?” my friend asked nervously. Their personal search for the bed scissors resumes , all the while scolding me for being so irresponsible with such a potentially dangerous tool.

Later, in my studio, I showed my friend a mix of work from when I first started out years ago to more recently. They were drawn immediately to a set of small figures made of bark and moss. My newest work is my woodland action figure series. I go into the woods to snip and collect samples of twigs, leaves, pinecones, rocks, bark, dead flowers, found objects and anything the forest is willing to give me. I try to take what has already fallen or dead. I bring my trusty bed scissors into the forest to prune dead leaves or cut through dead wood then glue the components together to create whimsical creatures that brim with life and personality. I love working with natural materials to create figurines, sculptures and art pieces. I share these with family and friends, and some get placed back along the path where I found their components as a thank you to the forest for their gifts. I always feel a great sense of appreciation from nature for visiting and giving back these eccentric figures . I can't help but feel that the frequent magical encounters of birds, foxes, and other wildlife during these outings are connected to the totems I offer back to the forest as gifts. I’m always inspired by the shapes, textures, sounds and life cycle of nature. Nature is the collaborator in art in this way.

It gets to the witching hour before my friend decides to head home to get some sleep. Before they left, they joked “text me in the morning so I know the scissors haven’t got you”. We agreed to both watch out for the bed scissors and we bid adieu.

After a restless night, I wake up the next day and text them to let them know I'm fine and that no harm had come from the mysterious disappearance of the bed scissors.

My friend replies with ominous words …

“I fear the reality of ghost scissors”.... followed by a picture of their bed sheets mysteriously cut up with a large gash down the middle of their bed underneath where they slept.

After the incident I gifted one of my favourite woodland creatures (affectionately named Finland) to my friend as a protector totem as the experience had left us both a little shook. Even more curiously, a couple of days later I found my favourite bed scissors mysteriously back in their box, resting happily, having defended their honor and ready to make more art. Finland now lives permanently with my friend and hasn’t had any visits from ghost scissors since.

~ Fin ~

ABOUT THE ARTIST:

Devon Lyddle (They / Them) is a Queer multi- media artist who studies comic book design and creates dark whimsical drawings, paintings, music, sculpture and collages inspired by their dreams and nightmares. Nature and found objects are a staple of their work and they try to incorporate recycling and sustainability into their art . Inspired by land and sea, ghosts, robots and poetry; their work strives for a gothic aesthetic to illustrate the gaps and connections between the natural, and unnatural world.

https://www.instagram.com/devon.lyddle/

https://www.twitch.tv/devonlyddle

contact : [email protected]

Disclaimer : Although this is a true story, for legal reasons I have to recommend not sleeping with a pair of sharp haunted scissors . I've included some additional pictures below to feed any curiosity.