How To Fix A Switchblade Novels & Stories

She then put the handler on the palm with her left fingers held the tip of the guard and the spine of the knife. Shadow’s right hand moved accordingly, placing Elijah’s lower three fingers of the hand she used to hold the knife around the handle with the middle finger on the bolster. And then, she pressed Elijah’s thumb and index finger on the handler to clasp the blade on the left and right. “You can use it that way or you can turn the sharp edge the other way around, the same way you are holding it but the spine or the back knife must face your elbow, not the other way around. Understand?”

Before he could finish, I pivoted as the second rushed me with a switchblade that gleamed in the yellow fluorescent light. “You think that’ll help you?” I muttered. "Fucking bastard," he snarled, slashing wildly. I skidded to the left and cracked his wrist into the concrete wall. “ARGH!” he screamed as the sound of bone crushing echoed through the space. The knife clattered to the floor. “Don’t need this,” I muttered, kicking it aside. Then, I grabbed him by the collar, and drove his head repeatedly into the wall—once, twice, three times— until he crumpled to the floor.

We took our cues from her. Her response was to show us all what the dangerous implement did. She jammed it into his bicep and pressed the release. Three blades slid outwards in different directions. Holy fucking shit. Good Goddess Almighty Above… The blades slid smoothly, cutting three inches each way. It would appear that his balls abandoned him and went back up inside of his body. The result was his high-pitched wailing. Aunt Ziyah snapped her fingers, and the sound was cut off. She really was the best. I grabbed a blondie and gave it to her as a token of appreciation.

"May I?" "Be careful." He placed the blade on his hand while still holding it and handed it over to me as gently as he could. "And hold it with two hands, as it's handled with both." I rose to my chair as soon as I took it in my grasp and raised a brow as I looked down at it. The handle fitted just right to my hands and it wasn't at all uncomfortable to hold. I raised it with two hands and realized it was way lighter than I thought. I moved behind my chair and turned where there was nothing I could hit, before swinging it up and down.

Chris picked up the undamaged box and held it up. “This is to prevent the unit from breaking. There is a gas tank on the front and backing the unit. The rear tank has a hose that attaches to the primary air supply. This serves as a second air supply. The front tank will slowly leak gas into the sheathes to prevent the outside air from corroding the blades. Now for these three blades you will have a single hilt at your disposal.” Chris passed around the sword hilts and a blade. “Take note of the lever on the side of the handle. Squeeze the lever and slide the handle into the blade.”

His chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic pattern, his face slack and peaceful in a way that seemed almost innocent. Evan crept forward, his movements slow and deliberate. The tool Kade had given him was pressed against his palm, small and cold and reassuring. A thin blade designed specifically for slicing through chains and cords without making a sound. Evan had practiced with it for hours in the penthouse, learning the precise angle and pressure needed to cut through metal cleanly. He had run through the motion a hundred times, memorizing the feel of the blade in his hand.

Without thinking Sven ripped the blade from Aurick's shoulder completely forgetting the person they were intending to assault. "OW! YOU ASSHOLE! YOU DON'T JUST RIP THE BLADE OUT!" Aurick cried out in pain immediately covering the wound. (The best safety method when impaled by an object is leave it in if possible clean the wound, tape it down or use another method to hold it in place until a doctor can examine the wound and remove said object ensuring there's no internal damage.) "Shit! Fuck! I'm sorry!" Sven began pacing back and forth unsure what to do for his friend. There had been a few occasions where he was forced to stab or cut someone, but definitely was a first time stabbing his own

he roared, flipping out his switchblade. The average human girl would have been screaming in terror at this point. Elizabeth hardly batted an eyelash when that blade appeared. His hand began thrusting the blade at her; it would reach her in less than a second. That was far more time than she needed. Her free hand sprang up and grabbed the attacking hand by the wrist, and she swung him over her shoulder onto the ground.

He stared at the fine Obsidian stone carved into a perfect knife with two smooth and sharp edges held by a red leather wrapped handle. He took the blade with him into the showers to wash off blood and get himself clean. walking out clad in a black sweat shirt and tracksuit pants, he closed the blade into a black wooden box which only he knew the combination to open its locks. He placed the box in his duffel bag zipping it securely.

Percival I pulled open the drawer and grabbed the silver switchblade that I always kept there. Then, I casually sat on the edge of the tub, flicking open the silver blade. I took a moment to examine it, noting its sharpness. This could be a lifesaver. I could definitely meet the moon, no problem. I hopped into the bathtub, trying my best not to make a mess. Despite the shock I felt, I did my best to keep my emotions in check. I leaned against the back of the ceramic tub and ran the sharp tip along my vein, making sure to go deep enough.