The Bloodthirsty Sword

Originally published in Cinnabar Moth Literary Collections (2024)

Karina found the bloodthirsty sword propped between the stack of polka records and an incomplete, dusty tea set. The sharp blade shone, even in the thrift store’s dim yellow lighting. The red jewels in the steel hilt gleamed, beckoning Karina to pick it up. Probably glass, she thought as she grasped the hilt.

Think again! a voice in her head chirped. These are real rubies, baby!

Karina jumped back, letting go of the weapon. It clattered back against the wall. The red glass (rubies?) gleamed again, as if they were winking at her.

A stooped, stern-looking man eyed Karina from his spot behind a glass counter. Though he was stationed near the center of the store and peered at her through bifocals, Karina had the feeling he could see everything, everywhere, at all times. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

Karina straightened, irritated at his adult-y voice. They always assumed the worst, but thought they knew best. She smoothed out her faded black shirt and adjusted her studded bracelets. “Shopping,” she retorted, narrowing her heavily lined eyes at him.

The man frowned, dragging his wrinkly cheeks down, and furrowed his bushy brows. Teenagers – they knew nothing, but thought they knew everything. “If you break it, you buy it,” he said.

Karina wanted to ask him if he’d come up with that one all on his own, but she stilled her mouth for once. She could feel the sword demanding her attention. “Fine,” she ground out instead.

The man continued to eye her for a minute, as if debating whether to throw her out anyway, before turning back to his newspaper crossword. Karina reached out to grab the sword, muttering, “What a dick.”

He sure is! the sword exclaimed. Let’s end his dickish existence in a glorious bloodbath!

Karina kept her grip on the hilt this time, trying to process what she was hearing. Was it actually the sword talking to her? Was she going crazy like her dad had done? Why was the voice so perky? Whether it was an evil sentient weapon or her own fall into insanity, she would’ve expected a deeper, more gravelly voice.

You want me to sound demonic? the sword asked politely. I can try, but it’ll probably be silly.

“What are you?” Karina whispered.

You don’t have to say it out loud, funny girl, the sword admonished. And I have had many names. Wrathful One, Cutter, Bloodletter, Sin Eater – just Vengeance is a popular one. But whatever is fine. Easy breezy, that’s me! Who are you?

Karina, she thought, noting how tightly her hand gripped the hilt.

Beloved! the sword exclaimed with the same excitement as everything else it said.

Excuse me? Karina furrowed her brow.

Your name means beloved, the sword explained. Neat! Now who needs killing? I am yours to command!

Um, no one. Karina tried to uncurl her hands from the hilt, but it felt like her fingers had cramped.

Aw, c’mon, there’s always someone who needs a little murder action, amiright? The sword paused, as if thinking. Not to be too presumptuous, but you seem like my kinda girl. You’re just brimming with dark irritability. Let’s stick it to the man! Literally!

No, Karina thought a little more forcefully.

If I know teenagers, I know someone is irritating you. I’m here to help!

Disgusted with the images the sword sent through her mind, Karina grunted and forced her hand open. The sword slumped back, as if disappointed, as Karina scrambled backward. She glanced at the old man who was peering at her over his crossword. Ashamed and embarrassed for reasons she didn’t understand, Karina put her head down and hurried out the front door. She’d wandered in to the shop to meander and take her mind off things, but she was late for school. At least, that’s why she told herself she was in a hurry to leave.

School was the same horror show as always. The death of Karina’s dad had crashed her life, leaving a flaming wreck. The misery and loss were a burnt-oil barrier between her and the rest of the world. They didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what she wanted them to say. Everyone said nothing, at least to her face. Judging by the whispers that disappeared in her path and followed in her wake, people had plenty to say when she wasn’t around to hear it. Once in a while a snippet would drift to her:

Did you hear about her dad? Do you think it’s her mom’s fault?

My brother knows the people who saw his body first. Super gory.

No, no, I heard the real story about what happened and it is craaaaazy.

Dinner wasn’t much better – Salisbury steak right from the microwaveable tray. She was poking at the frozen heart of her mashed potato lump when her mom tried to make conversation.

“How was school?”

Karina eyed her mom’s half-empty wineglass and wondered how many refills she’d already had. A glance around the continued dusty neglect of their small house made Karina guess it was more than one. At least her mom scored points for consistency. “So cool. I won homecoming queen and valedictorian. The quarterback offered me a ride home, but I decided to take my unicorn instead.”

Her mom rolled her eyes and set down her fork. She’d only been pushing her food around anyway. “I heard you skipped your therapy appointment this morning. Again.”

“So?” Karina jabbed at her congealed meat slab.

With closed eyes, her mom sighed. “So, it’s important you go. We’ve both been through something traumatic. This could really help.”

Karina gestured to her mom’s wineglass. “I guess you’re seeing Dr. Merlot?”

Her mom’s eyes snapped open. “I don’t have enough money to send both of us. You’re skipping appointments that aren’t cheap, you know.”

“Oh, so sorry to waste your money or time or whatever else you waste on me,” Karina retorted. “Just save it and stop sending me. I hate the doctor. Hate the talking. It’s useless and I don’t want to go.”

Her mom took a moment to respond, breathing deeply through her nose. “You won’t talk to me. You’re ignoring your friends. You need to talk to someone.”

Karina thought of the weird sword in the shop. If you only knew, she thought.

Tense silence filled the room before Karina stood and dropped her half-eaten dinner onto the overflowing garbage. For a moment, she considered taking the bag out to the can on the curb. Saw with clear eyes that she wasn’t the only one going through this. Wasn’t the only one who needed help dealing with equally toxic and overwhelming portions of grief and anger.

The feeling passed and all Karina wanted was to disappear into her room for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Karina skipped her rescheduled appointment again. The thought of visiting the doctor with the sad, patient eyes and overpowering lavender candles made her grit her teeth. A talking murder sword was way more interesting.

The same old guy was behind the counter again. Karina wondered if he owned the place. He certainly acted like he did. They gave each other a wary glare before pointedly ignoring each other.

Karina knelt down in the corner of the store, hands on her knees, and stared at the sword. She wasn’t sure she actually wanted to grab it. She wasn’t even sure why she was here. Yeah, the sword was interesting – but she didn’t like what it had to say or the images it showed her. It was one thing to giggle at ridiculous levels of gore in horror movies and comics; it was entirely different to have a sword flood your brain with its potential reality.

No, Karina didn’t like the sentient weapon. But she had come here, as if she’d been called. She felt her hand tremble and gripped her knee to keep from reaching out.

Absorbed, Karina didn’t notice the old man had come to stand by her side. He coughed into his hand, startling her into the present. She wondered how long he’d been there – how long she’d been trapped in her own head.

“You’re looking at the sword again,” he said uneasily.

“Let me guess.” Karina gripped both her knees now. “You have another creative gem for me. Something about spending money or getting out.”

“It’s my right to watch over my store,” he retorted. One question answered: definitely the owner. Also definitely not the most burning question in her list. “And where do you get off talking to me like that? When I was your age, we talked to our elders with respect.”

“When you were my age, words were still being invented.” Karina hated the combative tone of her voice, the angry words thrown for no rational reason, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. It’d be great to blame the bloodthirsty sword, but she’d been this way since what Aunt Carol called her father’s “little accident.” Karina felt like a human boil, ready to erupt infection and blight at the slightest prick. She couldn’t be more disgusted with herself.

“Get out.” The owner’s face was turning a deep shade of purple. Karina shot to her feet and ran out the door, shaking with a fury she didn’t understand.

The sword’s presence festered in Karina’s head. She tried to ignore it, but it was a spreading disease she couldn’t remove. It layered perfectly on top of her existing guilt, shame and rage. As the school day passed, she felt angrier and angrier – at her classmates, her teachers, herself.

The sword had been waiting for her, Karina knew. It had called to her. It thought she wanted the world to pay for her misfortune and misery, and it was more than happy to feed.

The question was: Did she feel the same way?

On her way to third period, Karina heard Emily Montario talking loudly to her friends. Karina didn’t even catch all the words – just enough to know it was more ignorant, hateful gossip. As Karina threw herself onto the other girl, punching with a blinding and horrifying glee, she thought she might have an answer for the sword.

Karina was already in the principal’s office by the time she regained a sense of self. Voices murmured on the other side of the frosted glass door, one of which sounded like Karina’s mom. Karina shifted on her uncomfortable chair, eyeing the empty seat across the desk. She glanced at an old-fashioned planner and a couple photos of the principal with her cats. Framed degrees and certificates of “look at me, look at me” dotted the walls. Heavy curtains blocked the day from intruding on the room.

After what felt like an eternity, the door opened and Principal Watson led Karina’s mom into the room.

“Thank you for waiting,” Principal Watson said to Karina, her voice firm but polite. “I wanted to appraise your mom of the situation.” She turned to Karina’s mom, settling into the chair beside Karina. “And thank you for taking time out of your busy day, Mrs. Chalmers.”

“Situation?” Karina asked at the same time her mom said, “You can call me Becca.” Karina didn’t miss the wince on her mom’s face as she dodged her own confusing feelings about the title missus.

“Very well, Becca.” Principal Watson smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “The situation,” she steepled her fingers under her chin and redirected her focus on Karina, “is that you put Emily Montario in the hospital.” When Karina said nothing, the principal continued. “You beat her into unconsciousness. I’m not looking forward to the meeting with her parents in a few minutes. They will probably want to press charges.”

When Karina remained silent, Becca turned to her. “What happened?”

Karina fidgeted, looking at a spot in her own lap as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Karina?” Becca asked again.

Karina threw her hands into the air. “Fine. I lost it. Is that what you wanna hear? Another reason to send me to that lame therapist?”

Principal Chalmers leaned back in her seat, lips pressed together and brow furrowed, as she watched mother and daughter. “I know how hard it’s been for you…” she began.

“You don’t know shit,” Karina spat toward her principal. “And the other kids? Emily Montario? They talk a lot of shit, but they don’t know it either. None of you know what this is like.”

“I might,” Becca said mildly.

“Do you, Mom? Do you really?” Karina turned the full beam of her wrath on her mom. “You know what it’s like to walk in here every day and have to listen to this?”

“Well,” Becca drawled, “I’d like to tell you differently, but adult workplaces are not that different from high school. Still a lot of drama and politics and cliques. So yes, I think I might know some of what you’re going through.”

“Bullshit,” Karina swore again.

“Please watch your language in my office,” Principal Chalmers advised.

Karina and Becca both rolled their eyes at her. “I think there are bigger issues at hand,” Becca said calmly.

“Yes,” Principal Chalmers returned. “Like what we’re going to do about your daughter’s continued behavior and failing grades. I would be well within my rights to remove her from this school. Oh, she will definitely be suspended,” she said to the unspoken question on their faces. “I mean she may have to be removed permanently.”

Becca leaned back in her chair, arms folded over her chest, in what Karina recognized as Beast Mom mode. Becca would say her next words in quiet, dangerous tones. The principal seemed to recognize it, too, and went still.

“My husband, Karina’s father, killed himself,” Becca said. “He left a giant dad-shaped hole in my daughter’s life. He left me with a ton of bills to pay and a pissed off teenager to raise. This happened six months ago. An eternity and a blink of an eye, in which we are struggling to get through each and every day.” She leaned forward and placed her forearms on the desk. “Now tell me again about how you think my daughter should be better adjusted. You must be a goddamn machine if you think it’s that easy or quick.”

Karina clenched her hands together, nails digging into the palms mercilessly. She’d been the one to find her dad. As the graphic memories flashed through her mind, she wondered yet again why he couldn’t have been bothered to go somewhere else. He had to introduce the inside of his head to the inside of his gun in the middle of their living room. She didn’t think either she or her mom had sat in there since then, despite the professional deep cleaning Aunt Carol had paid for. If her mom wasn’t half-drunk most of the time, she probably would’ve dragged all the furniture out to the yard and torched it.

“Be that as it may, I have bosses to answer to,” Principal Chalmers responded, with less confidence than she’d had a moment before. “I have parents to answer to. I can’t just let this kind of thing slide. When they find out that Karina is at fault…”

“Fault?” Karina gave a broken laugh-sob that made Becca whip her head to look at her daughter in alarm.

“Fault? Didn’t you know? I’m always at fault.”

“Karina?” Becca moved to place her hand on her daughter’s arm.

Karina yanked her arm away as if Becca’s hand might burn it. “Like my mom said, who wants to deal with a pissed off teenager?”

Becca’s eyes became too large and round for her face. “Oh my God, you can’t think – all this time…”

Karina jumped to her feet and whirled on her mom. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s plenty of blame for you, too.”

She marched for the door. “Kick me out of school or don’t. It doesn’t matter. Don’t you two geniuses get it? None of this matters.” She slammed the door behind her hard enough to shake the pane of frosted glass.

When Karina came into the store the next morning, she’d already been waiting outside for nearly twenty minutes. The old man finally left his post and disappeared into the back, giving Karina time to slip in and grab the sword. She only needed a minute anyway.

Karina knelt down and hesitated, fingers shaking before they curled around the hilt. This is a terrible idea, she thought. Why am I even here?

Because I’m awesome and you’re awesome and together we can do awesome things! the sword replied in a singsong voice. Now who has betrayed you and deserves a taste of Vengeance?

Karina sat on the ground, barely aware of her movement and the fact she was settling in for a longer chat. No one has betrayed me.

Aw, you cheeky little rascal! The sword chuckled. You know I can hear a lot of what’s going on in that feisty little hotpot of a brain. There is definitely some betrayal going on there. Tell ol’ Uncle Bloodletter all about it.

Karina tried not to think about her dad, but of course, that only made her think about him more.

Ohhhhhh! If I had my own arms, I’d face-palm for sure. Your dad killed himself. The ultimate betrayal. But don’t you see? Even though he’s dead, we could have Vengeance against the world.

But it’s my fault, Karina admitted, choking back a sob. If I hadn’t been so difficult, if I had just been enough, Dad would still be here.

Aw, that’s probably true, the sword used in a gee-too-bad tone. But whatcha gonna do?

Take Vengeance on myself, Karina thought.

Wait, what? The sword paused. This is an unexpected turn. I’m not loving this idea. We could get a lot more bang for our buck out there in the big world, you know.

The owner stood near Karina, but not very close. Some instinct made him stand outside of the sword’s reach. “Excuse me,” he said calmly, the way a person might speak to a cornered animal.

Karina’s face turned toward the old man. She looked at him with unfocused eyes that held a faint red gleam. Her hand whitened and shook with the ferocity of her grip on the hilt.

“I’m Lawrence,” he said.

This guy again? the sword grumbled. Can we at least agree on him?

After a long pause in which Karina only stared without seeming to see him, Lawrence continued. “My wife died of cancer a couple years ago,” he said. Karina blinked, uncertainty flashing across her face before blankness reclaimed it. “Smoking,” he clarified. “Two packs a day, for as long as I’d known her. Sometimes I think I could’ve done more to stop her.” He gave a dry chuckle. “As if anyone could force her to do anything, ever.” He looked directly into Karina’s eyes. “But it doesn’t stop me from blaming myself. From being angry with her for not quitting on her own. I feel those things. Every. Damn. Day.”

Lawrence gazed at Karina’s face and hand, one blank and the other ready to bend metal. “That sword showed up in my shop shortly after her death. I don’t remember it ever being in our inventory. One day it wasn’t here and the next day it was.” He paused, thinking, before he admitted, “I don’t want to touch it. It bothers me and that’s why I’ve never moved it. And no one has ever shown any interest in it, until you.” He finally looked at her with a mixture of unease and concern. “I’ve kept it buried back here, hoping no one will see it.”

End him end him end him, the sword insisted with increasing intensity. A small whimper sounded from behind Karina’s clamped lips.

Lawrence knelt, his knees popping and creaking with the movement. He held out a hand to the young girl. “I have caramels behind the counter,” he offered. “You’re not too hip for sweets, right? We can… talk. About anything you want.” He shrugged, dropping his hand.

Karina clung to this small gesture of unexpected kindness as another voice spoke up in her mind – one she had

missed desperately. You wanna lose your teeth to ancient caramel or your soul to ancient evil? her dad’s voice echoed, as if from down a well. It’s up to you, kid. It’s always up to you.

With a gasp, like she’d been starved for air, Karina forced her hand to let go of the sword. She felt a pain in her hand and head – the psychic equivalent of a snarl and snap of teeth. She looked at Lawrence, who only saw confusion and wariness instead of the strange otherness of before.

“Caramels?” Karina asked.

“Older than me,” Lawrence agreed, as if he’d heard her earlier thought. He stood with more snaps and cracks in his joints. “Probably seal your jaw shut. Might be for the best,” he joked, no bite to his voice anymore.

Karina grasped his still outstretched hand, which felt dry and thin like old paper. “Sounds like we both need a piece then.” She smirked as she stood and walked with him, leaving Vengeance unneeded and forgotten.