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PapercutsShe glided through the train, the tightly packed peak-hour throng parting smoothly as she approached. Swinging around a support bar, she spotted the elderly woman, exhausted from hours of sardine-like confinement in a carriage with broken air conditioning.

The businessman in the corner seat was blindly ignorant to the please vacate sign behind him. The woman drifted over to the suit, watching as he flipped through a series of printed e-mails, highlighting and scribbling comments as he skimmed the contents. She reached out a scalpel embedded index finger and watched the man jump.

He shook his hand and, no doubt cursing the god of papercuts, raised the wound to his mouth to ease the brief flash of pain. Shaking his hand, he returned to his paperwork. Flip, cut. Flip, cut. More papercuts marred his expensively manicured hands.

Swearing beneath his breath and he looked around, blind to the woman with the dreadlocks piled into a fountain on her head who stood before him, the woman who was so intently studying him with the detached and careful consideration of a predator.

The man sighed and laughed at little as his foolishness, but even he could hear the edge of insanity in his voice. He shuffled the documents to continue and uttered a very unmanly squeak as he saw a shallow cut open between his knuckles. His eyes widened in fear and confusion and he hastily stuffed his paperwork back into his briefcase, stumbled to the opening door and ran off along the platform.

The dreadlocked razor girl smiled serenely as the older woman eased herself into the vacant seat with a sign of relief. The smile broadening into a savage grin as she stepped off the train. The businessman's heart pounding in his chest, the stench of fear that rolled from him in waves, the panicked glances. She followed a path visible only to her kind, keeping her own leisurely pace in an increasingly frenetic world.

15minuteficletsword #43: intoxicating
Part of the RazorGirl!verse


( 2 howls — talk to the wolf )
24th Feb, 2004 11:13 (UTC)
I'm really getting fascinated with this dreadlocked girl and wondering what she might be up to. Why such fear from the businessman? Inquiring minds... :-)

And I *love* that icon!
24th Feb, 2004 21:17 (UTC)
The Razor Girls have featured in a couple of other stories.

Cuts that just appear seems to freak the suit a little, especially when he can't see the Razor Girl, probably should have worked in some more obvious prey fear.

Got to love a number 23 scalpel blade. Maybe that's just me. deviantART requires icons for each story (or you get lumbered with the hideous default) which is why my stories here are slowly gaining their own icons. The image came from a UK surgical instruments manufacturers site, and you have no idea how hard it was to find a good image to work with. I was almost on the point of taking my own photograph of scalpel blades.
( 2 howls — talk to the wolf )