Knife | Teen Ink

Knife

November 9, 2016
By lhyman BRONZE, Allentown, Pennsylvania
lhyman BRONZE, Allentown, Pennsylvania
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Shoved in the dark, cramped pocket of his denim jeans, he made it obvious he didn’t want me seen. He kept putting his hand on me; he needed me, depended on me. He constantly kept moving. I began lurching back and forth; making it obvious that he was trying to pull something that didn’t want to move. I couldn’t hear much but I was able to pull a few words out of the conversation. I heard her say, “They will find you”, followed by my owner saying, “Calm down”. This peaked my curiosity and I tried to put the pieces together.  I glanced above the rim of the pocket but I was immediately pushed back down again. I heard a door slam and suddenly I jerked downwards. I felt the sweaty palm and long skinny fingers grasp onto my handle. I was abruptly yanked out of the denim pocket, and I could finally see. I found myself staring directly into the eyes of a beautiful girl. I started falling in love when I suddenly realized her eyes were filled with horror and anguish. I began to feel myself moving towards her, closer and closer. I could smell her perfume and sweat mixed together into a beautiful concoction. She screamed out in terror and although it pained me, I couldn’t look away. I could see her long eyelashes moving up and down as she kept blinking, hiding her big blue eyes from the pain that was right in front of her. I suddenly noticed a drop of water surfacing from her left eye. As it began to tumble down her cheek I stared at, it with the utmost amount of fascination. I never understood why my owner did this to so many beautiful women, especially this girl; she was different from the rest of them. Before I got the chance to say goodbye, I plunged, deep and fast into the heart of the girl. I emerged from her body and all I heard was silence. My owner dropped me and ran away, leaving me wounded and covered in blood. I now sit lying next to the girl as I slowly and peacefully listen to her die.


The author's comments:

A piece that depicts the feelings of the inatimate objects we see and use every day.


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