Twisted Knife Blade Novels & Stories

“That’s why I’m called The Shiv.” “B-betrayer? Traitor?” he sputtered, “Don Vyon, I do not know what you’re talking about!” I nodded patiently. “Don’t worry. There’s more than enough time to make you understand.” I leaned away and walked over to the table where an array of knives, different types and sizes, were on display, my eyes scanning for the perfect tool for the night. For the sleazy traitor. My eyes finally settled on a twelve-inch blade with a silver blade, and the corner of my lips turned up in a half, sinister smile.

“The other girls aren’t concerned about that.” “Well, I’m not like most other girls.” “You’re not?” He scoffed. “I’d say you are. Ordinary lips…” His hands moved gently over my lips. “An empty gaze…” His fingers brushed my hair back. “A neck…” Immediately, I pushed his hands away. “What’s that?” he asked. “A knot.” “A knot?” He raised a brow. “To show how twisted you are?” He laughed softly. I pushed him back. “To show how strong I am.”

So I'm guessing this will be something I will be good at. "Choose your knife Lorraine." She said, gesturing to the table. I took small steps towards the table, tracing my fingertips along the blades. "Remember there are three different kinds of knives that are good for throwing: blade-heavy, handle-heavy, and balanced knives." I picked the knives individually and studied them, some light, some heavy, some long and some short. I had so many options. My eyes scanned the table and stopped when I saw a 12 inch long and anodized double-edged, stainless steel blade with a black cord-wrapped handle with a finger hole. I picked it up and studied it.

“I lost count after the second dormitory, but between three people, we killed well over 50. It does seem like a very good blade, indeed, made of silver? It feels like silver, but there is something else. Frank loves the handle, by the way.” “Traitor,” said Frank, refilling her drink. “Simplistically put, it’s copper core quenched in salt water, dipped in molten crystallized salt, and silver layers added,” said Hendrick. “Basically, the type of blade I don’t want to see in the hands of anyone wanting her dead,” said Frank. “Interestingly, the night we escaped jail, we used a sword to complete our mission at the South Africa compound. For the little side mission I had this morning, I used a sw

He put it back immediately, it felt too comfortable. The second roll contained a set of crocodile shears, a lead sprinkler, and a tongue tearer. James swallowed and felt nausea overtake him. The third roll contained a single knife with a razor-sharp blade. It was beautifully engraved. The name came to him, Ling Chi, or better known as the knife used for the thousand cuts torture technique. Dave groaned and James turned around, he would not be caught unawares again. The fourth roll remained unopened on the table. James entered the cell and looked at Dave. Dave seemed confused and was looking around.

Suddenly, Owen went pale as a ghost. He didn’t even see how Kira's hand moved. By the time he realized what was happening, there was a knife in his throat! A butterfly knife, one of the most infamous weapons out there, was sneaky and lethal. With a swift flick of the fingers, it could deliver a dangerous and wickedly cool effect. A girl brandishing something like that at him like it was nothing? That’s cold-blooded and ruthless! “Back off, Owen.” Kira squinted slightly, the gleaming blade of the knife lightly tapping his cheek, “Even if every other man in the world disappeared, I still wouldn’t choose you.”

She didn’t expect it perhaps. I drew closer to her, and gave her the torch. Then, I bent down a little for her to fall on my arms. She did. I lifted her with quite an amount of strength. Her weight was significant. She held the torchlight with her right hand, and her left hand was around my neck. Her left titty pressed against my chest. It was pleasantly soft. The feeling from that friction was awesome, but I didn’t allow it to interrupt my concentration. The current was turbulent, and the ground was slippery so loosing my concentration would result in something unimaginably bad.

Both blades held engraved inscriptions on each side, in a language I could not read. I picked one up. The handle is a polished wood entwined with twisted steel like branches of a willow tree, all sanded down to a smooth round hold, the groves slight and fluid. The branches extended towards the pummel and capped off with a molded wolf's head. They were beautiful, a true work of art. The weight was perfect and balanced and the blade was straight. The craftsmanship was impeccable. I gazed at their beauty until I found my voice and even then it came out breathy “What does it say?” I asked, twirling it in my hand.

Two blades gleamed in the low light. Shit.

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.”