Inanimate Insanity Knife Novels & Stories

The shadow jolts and falls aside toward the TV stand, where it disappears into the darkness. I manage to kick free of the blankets then scramble to my feet and adjust my grip on my knife. The blond stalks toward the television, his fingers curled tightly around his own dagger. His weapon puts my dinky switchblade to shame. It’s more like a fucking miniature machete than a pocketknife. I’m not used to having the smallest knife in the room. We wait in absolute silence broken only by the distant passing of cars. It’s wild to think that life outside is just trucking along while I’m battling a literal shadow in my motel room with my second mate after rumbling with my first mate in the woods.

A knife standing on its edge moved, giving off a glint of the sun coming in through the window, and this caught Rose's gaze as the knife paused. "You," Rose said, looking at the knife. "You go first." "Your Grace," the knife said with the voice of a man, "I didn't intend drawing attention to myself." "But you must speak. I command it. Tell me what bothers you. Tell me about yourself." "As you wish, Your Grace. There's nothing to see in me. I'm a reflection of the man who wields me, and usually also a reflection of the thing that's he's about to cut. I have no skill to fight. But since man lacks claws, he's settled to using me to cause injury, and death. I am nothing but a piece of metal, pas

"That man tried to touch you. He tried to touch what was mine." "I'm not yours!" The words tore from my throat, echoing in the oppressive space. He was insane! The psycho was clearly infatuated and needed his head checked. "You see," he continued in that calm tone of his that made me shudder. "That is where you're wrong." He shoved the knife downward, slicing my shirt clean in half. I gasped, horror stretching my eyes.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “Seriously, Calix,” she began and she hated the bite in her tone. She didn’t had any right to be mad at him but she couldn’t stop herself. “And what else did this in depth study about the knife wielding psychopath give you?” He didn’t reply for a long minute and Ilana thought he might ignore her completely but then he whispered something, so soft that the words were almost carried away with the wind. “Initials on one of the daggers. I.D.”

Her fearless expression made it clear—if he dared to push any further, she would not hesitate to do something reckless. Lucien's face darkened like an impending storm. His gaze bore into her with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. Suddenly, he moved. In a flash, his hand shot out, seizing the knife's blade with his bare palm! Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping steadily onto the floor. Cynthia's breath caught in her throat. She recoiled instinctively, stumbling back in shock, her eyes widening in disbelief. He was insane! Lucien held the knife firmly, his grip unyielding as he took slow, deliberate steps toward her.

“This is perfectly safe” A few nervous laughs followed, shallow and unsure. “The swords have been equipped with non-lethal composite tips,” she explained, motioning toward the rounded, dark ends—elegant, polished, deceptively harmless. “They won’t draw real blood… just bruised egos…and…reveal who deserves to wear a crown next to the goddess Inanna..” She smiled and my fists clenched more. “Each blade is pressure-sensitive. One clean hit is all it takes to register a strike.” She continued with a light tone.

I continued, the bitterness seeping into my voice, "I'm dreadfully inept at practicing it." I noticed the signs of fear reflecting in his eyes, a sight that strangely satisfied my intentions. Making my way to the table, I finally settled on a choice—a black, short knife, perfectly suited for piercing and stabbing. Returning to the man, I found Anthony positioned before him, not aiming for his heart but instead staking his hands, eliciting a pained cry from the restrained figure.

"You're insane. You can't do this here. The security… someone will see… " I smirked, a dark, wicked expression carving deep into my face as I flashed the knife in the air. The tiny blade spun between my fingers with a casual, practiced ease… a skill I'd picked up years ago and never forgotten, before I caught the hilt firmly. The movement was deliberate, theatrical even, designed to maximize his fear.

The wound was more like a huge deep gash that was raw and looked as if something had mashed itself on his back hard. “Just what hit you?” I asked as I decided to gently clean the wound first to get rid of the bit of sand and dirt sticking inside. Even if he was a lycan, he was not completely immune from injuries and this one looked lethal. “I am not sure but something that had large discs of small, fine blades that could cut in viciously. I believe that was some fine metal.” This man was insane. He almost had his back cut open and he was marveling at the weapon.

When Sane woke up first in the morning, his initial reaction was to immediately curse before feeling the hangover that would ruin his day for two consecutive days in a row. He felt the pain in his head, and it was that kind of pain that seemed like there was a sharp knife inside his skull, and it was being dragged around by an invisible force. Not even a minute after waking up, he felt the need to vomit, but upon seeing that it wasn’t just him in the triple king size bed, he quickly stood before opening the nearest door which luckily happened to be the bathroom.