Shorts

Short story 1

The cut had been an accident, she had been cutting vegetables for dinner, the knife had slipped and sliced through the soft flesh of her palm. But though it wasn't deliberate, she couldn't help but cock her head and stare at the pulsing wound curiously. The red coppery liquid oozing out of the slash, clashing with the paleness of her skin. 

Absentmindedly she reached for a paper towel and pressed it against the wound, trying to convince herself she didn't like the pain, but the more she pressed the harder her breaths came, the pain intensifying to the point where she found some kind of pleasure, she could finally feel something penetrating the choking darkness that seemed to crowd her, suffocating her every being. 

She pressed harder still, revelling in the growing pleasure of some kind of feeling that overcame her. Such a crazy thing, she thought dully, the things we can feel pleasure from. She felt the painful ache start to dissipate from the wound, the harder pressure she added no longer doing anything to give her any sort of feeling.

 She picked up the knife and stared down at the blood sliding across the blade. Maybe she could do it again, recreate the pleasure of having any sort of feeling again. Now that she had had a taste she could feel the need start to rise, still young but there nonetheless. She wanted to feel something again, needed to. 

She stared at the blade as it neared her palm, saw the light glinting off the blade as if she was watching from a dream, didn't feel as if she was doing it. The blade was so close, so very close. She could feel the trepidation arise, feel her body readying itself to feel the pain before the pleasure kicked in. So close. She felt as though there was something connecting the blade to her palm, she felt a weird sensation overcome her, as if the blade was begging her to use it, begging to penetrate her soft flesh. 

Her eyes focused on the blade again, not realizing it had gotten so close so quickly. So very close. The blade touched her palm, her breathing increased as did her pulse. Her hand had just constricted around the blade, readying itself to move in a slicing motion, her mouth salivated at the idea of feeling the pleasure again. The door behind her slammed open, hitting the wall. Her hand jerked, she hissed at the sudden pain, feeling despair at someone intruding on her moment. She moved to grab another paper towel and pressed it against the second wound. No longer feeling any pleasure, just the fear of being caught filling her body.