She scooped out the contents of her soon-to-be jack-o-lantern
Copious amounts of sticky wet goop went plop as it was deposited into the garbage
Releasing a scent that wasn’t as fowl as she had anticipated as the knife cleaned the sides
After a bit more grunt work, the task was finished
Putting her candle inside, the glow from the eyes and mouth gave the room a ghoulish glow
Emmet said he never used his head, so she was happy to use it for him
Notching her knife with a file, Katy smiled
It would make sure the slice would catch right there
Causing her to pause in her butchery
Knowing she wanted to savor Jim’s demise and not make it go by too quickly
She held the knife in two hands like a samurai sword.
Looking at the watermelon, her sworn enemy, she bowed her head.
It was going to be a battle to the death, but she didn’t feel like dying tonight!
Cutting deftly, the watermelon never had a chance and soon it was bleeding chunks on her counter.
Extremely happy with herself, she popped a piece in her mouth and spit out the seeds.
Knife was sharp, elbows were out, nose broken
Everything screamed danger to those around him
Everyone scrambled to get away, but they didn’t need to
No one, including him, noticed that his shoelaces were tied together
Knowing you would keep stabbing me in my back
Never helped in the past and yet
If I didn’t go through that personal hell I wouldn’t be where I am
Finally free of the pain of your sharp slices that cut me down
Enabling me to fly away on angel’s wings
Fire climbing high into the sky
Lighting her eyes in a way that was magical
And the image made his heart skip a beat
Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt as much
Even as the knife plunged deep into his chest
Clark studied the scene in front of him
Little things seemed out of place, but there was no smoking gun
Undeterred, he knew he would crack the case
Eventually, something would click
Leaving the perpetrator unmasked
Every murderer made a mistake, like leaving the murder weapon
Soon as Clark found it he would be one step closer
Sarah sighed when she had to point out the knife in the corpse’s back
Image: previews.123rf.com/images/texelart/texelart1012/texelart101200013/8443366-man-with-magnifying-glass.jpg
The sun beat down from on high as Melvin selected a very crooked stick from the pile. It fit how he felt that morning. He turned it this way and that before nodding and sitting on the old stump. The remains of the old oak tree fit his backside perfectly after a little wiggling to get comfortable.
He pulled out his eight-inch bowie knife and began to whittle. He prided himself that he could slowly peel away the bark from tip to stern with one long stroke, turning the piece of wood a little at a time. Soon the twig was naked. He threw it on top of the shavings in front of him and picked up the next stick, sizing it up before doing the ritual once again. The motions came quicker and more assured, the shakes that plagued him that morning seemingly evaporating under his meticulous gaze.
The sun waved goodbye as it lowered itself below the tree line. Mabel would be home soon, wondering what Melvin had been doing all day. He chuckled as he pulled out his Zippo and flicked it to life. Where he applied the fire the flame doubled, then tripled. Soon his labor from that day was ablaze in glory, a burnt offering to his troubled soul.
As for Mabel, he would just make up the usual story about fishing or some such this way she wouldn’t worry herself none. He put away his lighter, cleaned and sheathed his knife, and began to tunelessly whistle as he ambled home, the smoke swirling around him with its pleasing aroma.
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Francis sharpened his knife for like the twelfth time. Tomorrow would be Halloween, and it would finally be his time. It had taken him weeks of sacrifice to be ready. His guests wouldn’t be expecting what he was planning.
Suddenly goosebumps caused his arm hairs to stand at attention. He used the knife to trim them. Yeah, it was sharp enough. It would part flesh with ease. He couldn’t wait to carve his way into infamy.
Francis put another brisket into the smoker and wondered if cutting into that would feel the same as… Well, he would see tomorrow night.
Image: kitchenknifeguru.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/global_chef.png
The ball tumbled to the ground, forgotten for the moment
Under the garish yellow streetlights the batter still took a swing
Ravaging the Demon’s knife man’s rib cage with a sickening thud
Finally the contest was called on the account of sirens
Image: turn2outs.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/Baseball-Bat.jpg
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 