Razor Blade Gravity Knife Novels & Stories

After taking the headache medicine, Grace took a special women's razor from the toolbox hanging near the medicine box. The razor consisted of four sharp blades, it was new (maybe Grace bought it three days ago). The razor is pink with Rubber teeth on the handle to make it easier for users to grip. Grace opened the safety of the knife blade, then washed it first with water from the sink faucet. She took shaving foam from her equipment box, and shook the can before pressing the top of the can. White, lemonade-scented foam rose in her palm. After lifting her left armpit, she rubbed the shaving foam on her armpit area, a cool and moist sensation spread over the skin of her armpit. Grace... Grace

Once the wound began to sizzled he pulled out his hand falling down to the bed. His knuckle white from clasping his fist together with great strength. The wound slowly knit itself back together till there was nothing but a thin line of red skin. Grey let out a sigh of relief as he pulled the gag out of his mouth. 'Tonight is not a complete failure' he thought holding up the bloody dagger. 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.

His eyes wandered to the pen knife that his brother was holding. “Is that the weapon you brought?” “Yes,” Zayn lowered his eyes to the thing in between his fingers and explained, “This pen knife was made out of silver and dipped in Growsbane. You should know that it is more than enough to take away your life if I desire it.”

“Aww, you think threatening me makes you a mighty giga chad, do you? I’ve been a member of the lawless underground society for more than ten years, and no one has ever dared wave a threat in my face! Are you happy that you’re the first? Now, come receive your reward!” Phantomknife unsheathed his snowy, shiny blades and pointed their tips at Javier. Cold glints bounced off their surface, making for a terrifying entrance, but little else happened, as Phantomknife never got to hit Javier with them. He felt a sharp pinch on his wrist and saw Javier’s silhouette get blurry. The next time his eyes focused, his shiny blades had changed hands. Javier was the one aiming the pointy bits at him now.

I said, jabbing my blade into his abdominals. Muscle and ligaments tore. Ribs cracked as I carved into him. Precise, quick, deep cuts. The blade was hand crafted to suit my purposes. Just in case my past came knocking. He was so caught off guard by my revelation he couldn't rally in time to stop me ripping into him. Muscle memory took over. Ghost Blade went to work. Lance's blood splattered between us. His knife aimed blindly at my body while he choked on the blood pouring out of his mouth. Face marred in pain, but he refused to cry out.

Wow, I'm impressed with myself how can I do this so easily? “What want to attack too?” I ask the first man that I kick in his stomach. He didn’t answer instead he took out a blade and judging from its look the blade has a back edge that curves upward hah such a knife is optimized for slicing or slashing which provides a larger cutting area or belly and is common on skinning knives. To think he is threatened by a lady like me and decide to bring out a knife is how ungrateful.

Two blades in a sheath. John even got goosebumps, and his hands reached for the blades themselves. His blades! Flawless, perfectly balanced, made of a special alloy, the secret of which only the Coven knew. Jon took out each of the blades and ran his hand over them lovingly, as if they were the most precious thing in his life. The blades were somewhat reminiscent of a Japanese sword - a katana, but slightly different from it. The same narrow and ideal, but still with their own secret, which no one is supposed to know about, except for the Hunter himself.

Cain pulled the knife from the sheath and held it up to observe it. The blade glinted in early morning sunlight that drifted through the windows. Cain placed the knife on the ground and slid it over me. It stopped just shy of my foot and I leaned down to pick it up. Examining it, I knew it was definitely a military-grade knife. "It's an Ari B'Lilah," Cain said. "It's an extreme use combat knife with the toughest and strongest penetrating point possible and one of the finest tactical combat weapons made in the world today—-specifically for the world's most elite counterterrorism unit, the Israeli YAMAN."

It was wrinkled, creased at the edges, stained with the ink of desperation and resolve. I handed it to her with both hands, like an offering. On it was my design—a blade that curved like the crescent moon, elegant and ruthless. I had spent nights perfecting its form. It needed to be light enough to move with my silence. Fast enough to answer before words could rise. Strong enough to carry the truth. I had poured myself into the sketch—not just my grief and rage, but my story, my scars, my will to never be made voiceless again.