Malinthe's Blog

It was raining knives. No, seriously. It was an actual rain of knives. Large knives, small knives, medium knives. They all had one thing in common. They were all really sharp.

Why was it raining knives? I don’t know. Maybe it was a glitch in the matrix. Maybe it was an act of god. Maybe an aircraft carrying knives exploded mid-air. Whatever it was no one could believe that they were experiencing a rain of knives.

Why was the rain of knives so significant? That would be a very stupid question. It’s a fucking rain of KNIVES! Actual knives made of metal. Did I mention that they were sharp?

I guess I don’t have to tell you that no one expected the rain of knives. Because when was the last time the weatherman said “you should be expecting some outbreaks of knife rains in the evening and it’s expected that it will continue through the night!”

I think the worst rains would unexpected rains. Worst yet would be unexpected knife rains. It someone actually reported that there would be knife rains in the evening everybody would be home under the safety of their roofs. (I do have a feeling that a mere roof wouldn’t actually help in a situation like that.)

I was walking towards my favorite ice cream shop when the it started. I felt a sharp pain on my shoulder and I looked at it to find a deep cut there. I was very confused as the blood turned my white t-shirt to red. The second one knife was a small one and it got lodged in my hand. I looked around to see people running and crawling on the ground. A man walking in front of me collapsed with a knife in his head. I knew I had to find shelter.

The ice cream shop was nearby so I ran as fast as I could. It had a decent roof so I didn’t have to worry about knives penetrating it. The people inside were terrified as you would expect. The news broadcast on the TV was already reporting the about the rain. About time.

The rain last for about half an hour. Hundreds of people were on the road. Some clutching at their punctures and some silent and still. Because they were dead. Duh. My favorite hot dog vendor was also dead. His cloth roof didn’t give him any protection. Of course, he didn’t expect a knife to go through the roof and get lodged in his skull.

I was still bleeding from my wounds. I walked towards my house, my shoes red with all the blood on the streets. People were crying as you would expect. A few large knives had gone through my car. I wasn’t very happy to see that.

My asshole neighbor was also lying on the ground. A very large and expensive knife punctured his chest. I can’t say if I was happy or sad about his death. I’ve had annoying neighbors but he was in a class of his own. I wasn’t happy nor sad.

Okay, fine. I was a little happy. I always wanted a knife like that.

Don’t look at me like that. It was a beautiful knife.

Then I flew through the window. A shower of glass shards followed me. As I hurtled down with the wind in my hair, I wondered about what it means to die. The humiliation was just too much to bare. Sure, you would say a hall full of people laughing at you would not be a reason to kill yourself. But you don’t know me. I have a sensitive heart and it doesn’t like humiliation. At all. I probably should’ve seen a shrink but who has the time for that? Running around the world, giving lectures and meeting strangers, sleeping on a new bed every two three days. I don’t even have time to call my publisher and my best friend Jerome.

“Garry, it’s London next week. Pack your bags son because they are paying bags of cash for you!” He would tell me. A few more days and I find myself in the all too familliar aircraft, cruising to London.

But that was sometime ago. This was Sydney. The fast approaching ground was a street in Sydney. I could see cars and taxis crawling in the evening traffic. People rushing to their homes or pubs or whatever on foot. Oh god I hope I don’t crush a poor soul to death. What a mess that would be. Pieces of bones and our blood mixed together in a gory soup of death! The people who would be called to clean that up would curse at me. Not to mention the family of the crushed. I certainly don’t want to be that guy.

I was almost at the end now. I saw a few birds flying by as I was on my death run. I saw my own reflection on another building. I thought I saw my terrified face.

To my great relief, the ground was empty when I hit it. The man who was at that location had moved so I didn’t have to worry about killing him. My face was crushed on the concrete panels, spilling blood all over the place. My neck cracked. My arms changed their original position and went flying backwards. I’m pretty sure that my pelvis was shattered to a million pieces. A woman was screaming. Some men came running. Most of the people looked terrified. But there was one guy that looked familliar. I’m pretty sure he was at my lecture moments ago because he was actually laughing and yelling at his friend. “Dude! That’s the guy who peed on himself!”