By E. T. Satterfield
As I reached for my father’s knife, its satinwood handle stained from years of use, a zing coursed through my veins.
He’d always said there was magic in this blade. Something mystical about the way its handle fit just right in his palm. Something intoxicating in the way it sang when he slipped it from its sheath but choked off when it touched flesh, as though strangled by the corpse before it even began.
Grinning, I set to work and laughed as the glistening steel sliced and minced and chopped with ease. Well, someone had to carry on the family business.
Yes, Carry on! 🙂
Thanks for the positive feedback, Kenny! 🙂
I like the way this is written. It has left me questioning….just a little….whether we are really talking about the legitimate butcher profession. ….and I’m still not sure, in fact I’m a little scared and its broad day light and I think I’ll end my lunch break a little early today. Thanks for the read!
Glad you enjoyed it, Susan! Always appreciate getting feedback. Hope your lunch wasn’t interrupted too severely. 😉
Well-written and scary. Just the way I like ’em! Great job, E. T.
Thank you for the positive remarks, Bob! Glad to know it was right up your alley.