Flash Fiction

Saturday Flash Fiction

My writing partner‘s prompt: “…the knife girl.”

What it sparked:

It’s Susannah, but they called her the knife girl. Her act used to be the talk of the town—a spinning disk, she tossed the blades up, they glittered and hung in the air for a moment before falling and thocking into the disk. She danced with them, and danced on them, her toes en pointe on their quivering hilts.

But acrobats get older.

Now she has a different act. A quieter one. And really, she’d be the first to tell you, if you paid enough to ask her a question instead of just engaging her services, one she likes better. Nobody knows anatomy like an acrobat, and nobody knows pain as intimately. Her pinched, wan face only brightens when her target wakes from the chloroform stupor and she tells them one simple thing. She will ask a question, and the pain will stop when you answer.

Yes, the agony will stop. One way…or another.

Okay, fellow wordslingers. Your turn.

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I wish this was a book because I really want the rest of the story

Sean Coleman

But if you make the mistake of lying to her well she does make a mean fillet mignon and nothing smells as good to her as a hot blade on flesh expect maybe bacon! because that’s the other thing the carnival teaches you never waste a single thing and never leave anything behind

She mostly thinks about the job. And making ends meet. But there are such times when other faces crowd, and she will stop and consider, slowing her body to polish the blades and to unwrap and rewrap her gear before leaving for the next town. She tries very hard to remember one face above all others. When Octavio’s face appears in her memory the knife girl TAKES HER TIME, looking at each crevice and wrinkle. He did save her from the same fate as her parents, but in her memory he rarely moves, just allows her to study him closely.… Read more »