Inanimate Insanity Knife Novels & Stories

I rapidly nodded, showing he had my full cooperation. "I'll be there, I promise." "Good." He twiddled the sharp edge of the knife around his fingers and I carefully watched him. "Because if you don't..." I covered my mouth to muffle my scream of horror as he slit Mabel's throat, killing her instantly. "Oh my God." I cried, falling to my knees as he carelessly threw her limp body onto the floor. Sitting on the chair she had once sat in, he held up the bloodied knife and ran his finger across it, smirking devilishly. "It will be your blood on my hands."

my partner cut in. “No rush. It’s 3742. Good luck, Holmes and Watson.” “We don’t need your good luck, poop,” she spat and ended the call. She entered the passcode and we opened the gallery. As usual, there were two images. One is an image of a knife stabbed to the ground beside a short, fat tree and the other is an AMU student entering a café. Wait… I snatched the phone from her hand and zoomed in on the knife. Oh, hell. “It’s an obsidian knife, the sharpest knife in the world.”

His voice was hoarse with panic. Ashton leaned against the podium, crossing his arms as he watched with a satisfied smirk. "What do you think, love? Should we believe him?" I chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "Believe him?" I crouched down to Denver’s level, staring into his terrified eyes. "You don’t get to negotiate your way out of this. You sealed your fate the second you thought you could steal from me and live to tell the tale." I reached behind me and pulled out my new favorite knife—a sleek, curved blade with an obsidian handle. The blade glinted under the chandelier’s light, sharp enough to split a soul in two.

Third-Person POV "What did you say?" Cole exclaimed, his voice pitching an entire octave. The joyous atmosphere immediately disappeared. The assistant handed his phone to Cole and said, "Look." Joanna was wearing a bitter smile as she sat in front of the camera. Her skin was covered in mottled bruises. She pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills from her bag and held it in front of the camera. The comments egged her on. "End your life if you have the guts. A lunatic like you will only harm yourself and others if you stay alive."

She only placed a finger on my lips, silencing me. “Hush,” she breathed. “We just want to see the weapons you used in seducing Veylor. Since you somehow managed what three of us couldn’t, after everything we’ve done.” Before I could process the words, Ina flipped open a small pocket knife. The blade caught the dim light, and my heart jumped into my throat. Panic surged through me. I tried dragging myself backward across the floor, desperate to escape, even though I wasn’t moving far. Ina moved faster.

She continued to slice off heads, arms, and legs as she moved from before the Asuras to behind them. Anima used her hammers to crush and destroy their skulls. Crushing some against the ground and others against each other. The chain on her weapon elongated and shortened, enabling her to kill Asuras at distances even Edith couldn't reach. Her hammers made pounding sounds as they slammed repeatedly into the ground—Anima's face was stained with Asura blood.

Bone cracked. "Fuck!" he screamed. "Talk." "I don’t know anything, I swear—" I drove the crowbar into his kneecap. He howled. "Matteo, gag him." Matteo obeyed without a word. A thick cloth was shoved into Jules' mouth. He trembled, eyes wild with fear. I dropped the crowbar and pulled a knife from my belt. The blade gleamed. "You see this? Damascus steel. Custom made. It'll take your skin clean off."

Before Felix could finish, the man grabbed his shoulder and yanked him forward, slamming him into his chest—hard as a wall. In the same instant, something cold pressed against Felix’s throat. He froze. The sharp sting of metal breaking skin made his breath catch. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. The man leaned in, like the devil whispering from the edge of the grave. “I don’t like dogs that bark too much.” Felix’s scalp tingled as a wave of fear washed over him. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. The man was insane. He had actually pulled a knife at a banquet.

"Stop bluffing, dear. You have no evidence!" My eyebrows rose. "And what about the knife you are holding in your hand right now?" Shirley grinned, amused. "This?" I gasped when the lunatic woman stabbed her stomach with the knife she was holding in her hand and to my surprise the knife didn't penetrate her skin, the tip just folded, looking like a soft rubber knife that was usually used as props in Halloween movies to make the stabbing look real and gory. My eyes glinted in annoyance. This woman is crazy!

An unread text from an unknown number. I blinked, trying to force my vision into focus. I swiped the screen. It was an image. High resolution, stark, and utterly silent. In the center of the frame was a man lying on a bed. He was pale, his eyes wide and milky, staring at a ceiling he would never see again. His chest was a ruin of crimson, a deep, jagged crater of blood that had soaked through his white undershirt and turned the sheets into a sodden, dark map. Buried deep in the center of that mess, right through the sternum, was a tactical knife—its black hilt protruding like a tombstone.