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.

I looked at the black page in front of me, the sharpened pencil felt strange in my hands, bringing memories of two little boys giggling with identical smiles as they painted and drew on our mother’s wall, standing together through her scolding and punishments when she’d tell us to go to our room, a place we would so much rather be. I swallowed and went to work. The sound of our pencils against the crisp paper filled the silence. The only sound came from Jones cutting up vegetables for our lunch in the kitchen. “You’re pressing too hard.” Felix suddenly snuck up behind me, eyes glaring at the pencil I held. “I like holding my pencil like this.” “You’ll snap the pencil, Elias. I got those from

The most horrifying thing was that every single needle was coated with a deadly poison. Even if it so much as grazed the skin, it could kill at once. One could imagine how serious it would be to be pricked by such a needle. This was Huxley's real signature move. Even an expert at the fifth level of the Celestial realm would not be able to dodge the attack of the fine needles when they were packed so closely together. Blake could not help being shocked. He tried to help, but it was too late.