Glo kills

The hunting knife stabbed in and out of Swinburne's gut, each lunge widening and deepening the slit opened by the first blow. Blood spread in a Rorschach across his pale cotton shirt and flowed like lukewarm coffee over his clutching fingers. The storekeeper tried to cry out, but the knife was pulling the plug on his strength. Rationally, Swinburne had to accept he was going to die, and yet he felt no pain; there was something unreal about the maniacal laughter of the assassin and the leeching wounds that were sucking his soul into darkness.

The man fell, his body slapping like a fish on the floor of the hardware store; two gasps later and he was gone.

Glo bent down and wiped the jagged knife on the dead man's overall. Then she stood up and sliced and slashed at thin air, testing the weapon for weight and balance. She'd already seen how sharp the blade was, but she had very high standards when it came to murderware and needed to be absolutely positive this was the correct knife for her needs. After a few more strokes, she reached a decision.

"Perfect!" she smiled, slipping the blade into a sheath hanging from her left hip. "I'll take it."

   Friday the 13th: Carnival of Maniacs, chapter 10