Scary Stories and Poems

The Knife Man

You see it, just a glint
But that’s enough
You burrow under your covers in fear.
It’s the knife man, he’s coming-
No, he’s already here.
He can teleport faster than you can blink
And murder faster than anyone thinks.
All you do is a double take, and then
You collapse, as the knife man slits a throat
Once again.
Everyone fears him because they think he will kill
Them next, or their friend, or loved one.
But it works not like that, you see, instead he just goes
To the nearest house.
And once he’s there, the tall, dark form
Teleports inside your walls.
And you snap awake, it was just a bad dream.
But no, it was real, because you see the glint
That everyone sees.
The glint that everyone sees before doing a double take
And they’re dead, their throat slit by him.
He needs no name, nor does he have one.
Most call him by knife man, after his
Signature weapon.
Some think he’s not human
But I know the truth.
He is human.
He is a human who one night wanted some fun
So he snuck to his dad’s room down the hall.
And he picked the lock on the safe in the closet
So he could reach the knife, hidden inside.
And as he retrieved it, its sickness came out
It lashed at him, invaded him, infected him.
And his eyes grew dark, and his skin turned black.
Black as night.
And the sickness controlled him, made him
Go outside, so he wandered the streets.
No one recognized him, for he had been a boy.
So he was able to sneak into houses with ease
And the sickness made him slit their throats.
After a while he became so good
That he learned how to kill
Without causing any pain.
He learned where to slit that would kill the fastest.
He became unstoppable, faster than wind.
No police ever caught him.
No jail cell can hold him
Nothing can kill him.
Except if someone else takes the knife from him
And gets the sickness.
Then the knife man would die, lose his
Source of nourishment.
And the new victim would take his place
Wandering the streets, forever tormented
By the taunting voice of the knife.
Because they have no friends, no more family,
The knife keeps them company.
And it whispers them lies, secrets that
No one desires.
It tells them lies, and haunts them for eternity.
It teases them if they no longer use it
And if they go too long without killing,
The knife slips from their hold
At exactly midnight
And it slits their own throat
And leaves them to die, in agony,
Although most knife men feel no pain.
And the knife finds a quiet spot where
Lots of people roam, and it sits and waits.
Until, one day, someone approaches
And picks it up
And gets sick
And kills.