One Shots/Drabbles

The Dull Knife

The knife was dull, just like her mind.

It was no longer the creative wonder it used to be, and she hated herself for it. It lost all color and all hope, and none of her writing, could she bring herself to the task, was happy. Their lives were dull and boring and sad just like hers, and she couldn't make it any other way.

She twirled the knife in her hands, having lost the ability to do much pain anymore. She was entranced by the way it caught the light, and how such a tiny object could do so much harm.

She did tricks with the knife, twirling it about and throwing it in the air and having it spin wildly. She surprised herself with how skilled he turned out to be, and for a moment she forgot about everything.

She forgot about her problems, and about why she had brought the knife out in the first place. It was just her, the knife, and the tricks she was making it perform. She finally had control for once; the knife didn't control her.

She began to twirl about herself, doing ballet as the knife was twirling through the air. She did graceful cartwheels and spun on her toes like she used to all those months ago. She had a genuine smile on her face for the first time in awhile, as she danced around her apartment with her new-found talent of doing knife tricks.

There was no music playing, but she could hear it in her head; a beautiful symphony. Her and the knife twirled to the beat as one, and she no longer felt as if she was weak. She felt like her and the knife were equals, and knowing the power it had she realized that she must be pretty damn powerful herself.

Powerful enough to throw the knife against the wall, no longer needing it for anything more than to eat, and to continue dancing on her own. She was going to be alright. She was going to be happy.

The knife was dull, but her mind was soon becoming the beautiful place she once loved.