I Would Speak Daggers
by Mike Mayak
AUTHOR’S NOTE: The draws for the July 2025 Flash Fiction Draw Challenge were: A Horror Story, set in a Pool Hall, involving a Rusted Knife. Here’s what I came up with…
The pool hall was dim, lit only by the lights above the tables and the red neon signs on the walls advertising brands of beer long gone from the world. The four men in slacks and pressed shirts were gathered around a pool table.
“This is weird,” Jack said. “I had a dream about the knife last night.”
“So did I,” Reggie said.
The other two men, Edward and Joey nodded their heads.
“That meant it was time for us to gather together again,” Reggie said. “As we do every few years.”
There was near-silence in the room for a few minutes.
“Jason’s gone. Magruder. Wesley.” Joey sighed. “And Danny.”
“The most recent.” Edward said. “Pete was the first. Then Raymond. Then Reginald.”
Reggie smiled. No one else smiled.
“The other Reginald.” Edward said. “And Zachary.”
“Yeah.” Jack said. “Y’know, I saw this old movie on TV late one night. That guy who was in the Odd Couple show was in it. All about a jury. Stuck in a room talking.” He looked up at the ceiling and then down the wall. “There was a knife in that too.”
Edward bent down under the pool table and pulled out a worn case with a handle that looked like it had once held a trumpet. He set it on the table. He opened it and pulled out an object wrapped in a dark blue cloth, not silk but something else. He set the cloth down on the table and unwrapped it as one of the others set the case down on the floor.
The knife lay on the pool table. An old knife with a wooden handle and a rusted blade.
Edward picked up the cloth and tossed it on the case, laying the knife on the green fabric of the pool table.
The four men stood there, each at a side of the table.
After a moment, the knife shuddered and shot up from the table into Edward’s chest.
Edward let out a gurgle and slid down, clutching the table. He lay on the floor, the knife shuddering in his chest. After a few moments he was still.
The other three stared at each other.
“It took the Custodian.” Joey said. “It’s never taken the Custodian before.”
“Yeah. But there’s less and less of us now,” Reginald said. “Which one of us is the oldest now?”
Jack raised his hand slightly. Moving into his role as the new custodian of the knife he picked up the blue cloth and used it to pull the blade out of Edward’s chest. The cloth soaked up the spilled blood and the blood staining the knife and pool table as if it had never been there. Then Jack wrapped the knife up in the cloth and put it back in its case.
“What happens when there’s just one of us left?” Joey said as they walked out of the room and onto the street.
“I dunno.” Jack said. “Knowing why was never part of the deal.”
—end—
AUTHOR’S ADDENDA: I watched the classic “12 Angry Men” for the first time a few nights ago. It’s about a jury deliberating a case and there’s some discussion about the murder weapon; a knife. That was in my head when I wrote this story.
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