“Where did you get it?” “My father gave it to me. He got it from his father. He’d had it in storage since the war. Took it off some island in the Pacific.” “No shit?” Larry Wilson pulled the sword out of its leather case and held it up. It was still shiny and sharp. “I don’t know much about it; except it’s from the war.” John lit a cigarette. “What are you going to do with it?” “I don’t know, maybe just put it my kitchen.” “Whatever you do, be careful. That thing could chop your balls off.” John left then and Larry put the sword back in its case, and into a kitchen drawer.
The next day Larry went to Skillman Library to do some research. He found some books on ancient weapons and sat down. There was a section about swords towards the back. He saw a picture that looked just like the one he had. It was from India and called a Gurkha sword. The Gurkha sword had been used by British soldiers for years, and by the Indian army longer than that.
Larry wrote down some notes and put the books away. He knew now that the sword just had sentimental value. There was one thing that caught his eye in the book. It stated that once a Gurkha sword had been drawn, it had to taste blood. Larry wondered how many the sword had killed. Larry pondered as he stopped at the liquor store. Two six packs and a fifth of whiskey.
“I found out about the sword. It’s called a Gurkha sword. I guess it was used in hand to hand combat.” John listened but was distracted by the movie that was on. “Listen Larry, that’s great about the sword, but I’ll call you back . I’m busy right now.” “Alright.” Larry hung up and opened the whiskey.
Later, Larry took out the sword. It was heavy in his hand, felt good. He took it from its case and swiped it through the air. The blade was curved and about fourteen inches long. He put the sword away and finished the whiskey, passed out in front of a game show, Press Your Luck.
The voice from the kitchen woke Larry. He sat up, turned off the TV and listened. Larry, scared, wasn’t sure if it was a voice or just noise but it was real and it was in his kitchen. He stood up, thought about leaving, felt like leaving. The noise drew him in, got louder with every step that he took towards the drawer in the kitchen.
Larry slowly opened the kitchen drawer. The Gurkha sword was sitting outside of its leather case and covered in blood. Larry put his fingers in the red crimson and wiped some on his face. He washed his hands, called it a day.
Larry walked back to the kitchen drawer and opened it. The Gurkha sword lay just like the night before. Larry wasn’t so scared, now that it was daytime. He took the sword and held it up. It swept down and stabbed him in the chest. Larry gasped and tried to throw the sword down. The force was too strong. With one mighty swoop the sword sliced Larry in the throat. Larry collapsed on the kitchen floor and stared at the ceiling. He had never noticed the lights like that before.
John found his friend a few hours after that. John started to cry, but then he saw it. The Gurkha sitting in its case on the kitchen counter. John walked over.
About the author:
Thom Young is a writer from Texas. His work has been Thieves Jargon and many other sundry places. He is trying to write his perfect novel.
That was amazing and creepy. My eyes are still wide from reading it. From the first line, I was completely drawn in. Swords have a unique history, a longer one than guns. That’s why they’re so fascinating. Besides the whole point of listening to what you’re told, the myth behing the weapon intrigued me. Maybe I’m a sucker for legends, but and inanimate object demanding blood is more than attention-grabbing. Larry should have gotten a clue when he first saw blood on the sword.