Sharp Objects Novels & Stories

Even as everyone looked on, so shocked their heads were numb, Shar couldn't run at all as the black greatswords promptly consumed him. The horrific sight left everyone flabbergasted, their eyes widened as they watched, their pupils dilating!

He pointed at the scene in the field, and for a moment, he was full of nonsense, "This... this... this..." "Kill!" The unit of sharp knives, like its name, rushed into the enemy's formation and instantly tore open the gap of the whole army...

I told them about the incident with the blade. As I pulled the blade to show them, my breath hitched. A sickening realization settled over me—the blade had begun to decay, its once-impenetrable metal now chipped where our blood had mingled. The sharp edge had dulled, the intricate engravings that once pulsed with power were now barely visible beneath the damaged metal. It was as if the weapon itself had been tainted, consumed by the impossibility of what had touched it.

Shadow shakes me out of my thoughts and I look up at him "Uhm I don't know I've never used any of these," I say and he chuckles. My memory takes me back to the flashback I had when I killed some of his men using the weapons displayed "Oh," I say out loud "I guess I don't know knives," I say looking back up at him "Good choice" he grins planting a kiss on my forehead. He guides me to the knife section. Looking at all of them displayed I picked the set of green knives that just seemed more deadly

Fighting throngs of them in human form is Thor's specialty. Before I abandon the car, I open the glove compartment and bring out the serrated edge karambit knife I took from Uncle Knox's workshop. The karambit is a perfect knife for silent killing. It can slice deep into flesh with ease and the curved and serrated edges on the silver blade make it a deadly and dangerous weapon that can hook and snag at sensitive organs like the intestine, making the person suffer a slow and painful death.

"It was clean, it came straight out the other side so it just needs cleaning and stitching up." I carefully rolled Hampson onto his side so I could see his back and swore when the skin was smooth. "The bullets still in him," I muttered and laid him flat again. "Shit!" I reached into the first aid kit and grabbed a pair of sterile tweezers. I ripped the packet open and grabbed some antiseptic to clear the wound. I poured the liquid over the wound on his stomach and wiped away the large amount of blood. I then got to work on locating the bullet.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

If I let her go then he’ll be the happiest person because he gets to have her without me interfering. The thoughts alone were annoying and caused damage to my thoughts by putting pictures I didn’t want to see at all. He stood there watching my hands with a small sharp knife making a pointed end from one of the woods. It was quite simple, the woods were cut down into hold-able pieces which could fit perfectly in our hands and we mould them with a sharp knife. Shaping them to have a very sharp edge possible into any size you want just like a portable wooden stake. The main deal was the silver oak tree and the shapes it had to come out in then what we dipped it into.

Five people to sneak into the heart of the enemy. They gathered in a smaller cave that served as an armory. It wasn't filled with swords and shields, but with tools of subtle war. Ronan traded his crystal-tipped spear for a wicked-looking knife made of black, volcanic glass, its edge so sharp it seemed to cut the light. He checked the tension of a powerful, compact crossbow, its bolts tipped with a paralytic toxin derived from a desert scorpion.

Beta Henry POV. Holding one of the hundreds of swords piled over the stone-carved table, I pulled it slowly towards the sparkling fire, sharpening the blade’s edge. The heat from the flames hit my skin, burning every hair it could reach. But then, I kept on focusing on my work, Because why not? I have gotten so used to pain, that little ones like this, doesn't get to me anymore. I sharpened the blade for some minutes, made sure it was now glittery like sunshine, with the tip as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel; enough to cut our enemies into pieces.