Dark City: The Knife

Kaleigha snatched the knife from the maid and tested its’ heft.  It was thin and lightweight and she doubted it could do the job. The handle was decorative like a set of silverware, but the shape did not look like anything in fancy set Mr. Jim had given her mother. She caressed the blade and lost a thin layer of skin.

“This will do,” Kaleigha said, impressed by its’ sharpness.

The maid nodded again and opened the door. Kaleigha tensed, prepared for a confrontation, but the hallway was empty.  She followed the maid back to the study.  The woman announced her presence, giving Kaleigha just enough time to tuck away the knife. She thought for a moment of how quickly life changed.  One moment she was just trying to keep the ghosts away and now she was intent on making a new ghost.

“Come in,” her father’s voice was weary.

The burnt Labor Leader reclined on a grey chase with her father and the other man perched on either end.  The crier was nowhere in sight.  Her eyes were blistered shut and the room still smelled of burnt flesh.

“I’m sorry for hurting her,” Kaleigha walked toward them. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

The other man remained aloof, but her father smiled.

“You are a very beautiful mistake,”  his voice was warm, but she heard the death sentence in his voice.  She pulled out the narrow knife and took a step toward the burnt woman.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat as a cold, thin blade pierced her neck.

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