Pencil X Needle Novels & Stories

“Come and sit where Lucas sat on the table. It’ll hurt just for a second as I poke the needle and do not move or you’ll end up also getting either a septum or a lip piercing.” I moved to sit where he told me and Lucas stood on the side watching. “You said you're going to use a needle?” I asked. “Yes, guns are not safe and unhygienic; also the needle makes it easier to pierce,” Lucas's friend explained as he put on new gloves and turned to me with a pen. “Let’s mark it first to see if you like it or we can adjust the position.” “Okay,” I mumbled as he leaned over and looked at my face before using a black marker to put a dot.

“It helps.” Her blue pools softened to a sweet gaze. “I’m happy that it helps.” Fingers twirled the sleek pencil in my hand in a fidgety tick. I peered down to take another look at my half finished sketch. The lingering poison slowly began to sprout in my head as I sigh lowly. “Me too.”

I tap the pencil lightly against the edge of the paper, once, twice. Then I lean forward again. My hand moves before I can stop it. A darker stroke this time. Deepening the pupil. Sharpening the contrast. Fixing something that doesn’t need fixing. It’s unnecessary. Pointless. There are better ways to spend my time. More productive things. More important things. Like completing the project for my Art class before the deadline. Like preparing for the Hale job. Like reviewing security layouts. The pencil moves again. Another stroke. Another adjustment.

"We'll see about that." He set his case on the nightstand and opened it with a soft click. Inside, nestled in black velvet, was a needle. Elena's stomach dropped. The thing was about six inches long. Thin. Made of silver so pure it seemed to glow in the dim light. And etched along its length were symbols—old pack runes mixed with something older, something that made Elena's skin crawl just looking at it. "Is that really necessary?" Xander moved between the Healer and the bed. "She's four years old. She's been through enough today."

This is it. The needle hums against my skin, the first sting a sharp burn that spreads, biting and soothing at the same time. The pain pulls my thoughts into the moment. Line by line the world fades until there's nothing left but the ink going into my skin. The hum of the machine is a steady rhythm drowning out everything else.

I say before I can stop the words vomiting from my mouth. “Fuck you.” Her body sinks into the bed and I begin rubbing my special combination of coconut oil and shea butter deep into her skin. I use the combo so my needle doesn’t hang up on dry skin. When her flesh is supple, I step on the pedal, dip my needle into a cup of dimension black, and bend my wrist. My mind turns to the art like a switch flicking on and lighting a room. My brain focuses on lines and swirls. Color and shading now fill my world and it’s time to allow it free reign. I begin with decisive lines and work on an area about twelve inches long. I never listen to music when inking. The hum of the Dragonfly X2 is my music and

I say before I can stop the words vomiting from my mouth. "Fuck you." Her body sinks into the bed and I begin rubbing my special combination of coconut oil and shea butter deep into her skin. I use the combo so my needle doesn't hang up on dry skin. When her flesh is supple, I step on the pedal, dip my needle into a cup of dimension black, and bend my wrist. My mind turns to the art like a switch flicking on and lighting a room. My brain focuses on lines and swirls. Color and shading now fill my world and it's time to allow it free reign. I begin with decisive lines and work on an area about twelve inches long. I never listen to music when inking. The hum of the Dragonfly X2 is my music and

"She's damn pretty, that is why everyone wants her." I crouched before him again, the rage simmering within me clawing its way to the surface. As I reached for his trembling left hand, I could feel his pulse hammering against my grip. I selected a needle from the box and inserted it deep into his index finger. A gut-wrenching cry filed the space immediately. Finally, some noise. "Want to know why the needles are painted purple?" My tone remained calm, dissonantly soothing as I slowly pushed the needle deeper into his skin. Blood trickled from the puncture, crimson against pale flesh.

“How about it, do you want to touch it again? This pencil is not sharp, we can use the tip for writing. Hanah wants to give it a try?” Hanah then grabbed a pencil from the pencil case and started using it to write her name on a blank piece of paper that I had provided for her. Thankfully, she's less afraid of pencils with sharp edges. In the past, when Hanah did therapy for the first time, she would be very hysterical just because of a pencil that had a sharp tip. Heartbreaking events in her past make Hanah so afraid of objects that have sharp ends. Her mind always interpreted a pointed object as evil and could injure her skin. But thanks to her tenacity and patience, she was able to overcom

I threw an air spike towards it and it shredded into pieces. I smiled to see the reaction on his face. And because of his anger, he rushed his puppets at me and added more. I easily destroyed it, but I didn’t expect what he did next. Because his puppets were all destroyed, he threw needles at me. This is not an ordinary needle because when it sinks into you, your body will be numb for a while and then you will feel as if the flesh inside you is burning, and you will gradually weaken. That is because that needle takes your soul until you are deprived of life.