The Horror Megapack_ 25 Classic and Modern Horror Stories ( PDFDrive )

THE MAN WHO COLLECTED KNIVES, by John
Gregory Betancourt
“Jason? Are you listening to me?”
He stood at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables that last fateful day, snicksnick-snicking
the butcher knife through onions and green peppers, half
dreaming himself away in a bubble of time.
Escape. Yes, escape.
He felt the room darkening, dropping out of focus. He longed for his freedom.
And the glittery sharp blade of the knife did it. Like always when he immersed
himself in his work, when he held a knife of some kind, its edge pulled him like
a moth to a flame.
He drew a deep breath and abruptly stood someplace else, someplace far away.
A hot, dry wind blew in his face. A sky black with clouds glowered overhead.
Jagged rocks crunched underfoot as he took a hesitant step.
“I’m here,” the creature said.
Jason turned, smiling for the first time.
“Jason?” a distant voice cried. “You bastard, listen to me! Jason!”
It had started innocently enough, in the summer of 1971, when Jason’s father
gave him a Boy Scout knife for his thirteenth birthday. He had stared at it
hesitantly before pulling it from its box. Mother never had let him have one
before—they were too dangerous, she said.
“You’re almost a man, and a man needs a good knife,” Pa had told him,
grinning and winking. “Treat her well and she’ll last a lifetime.”
“She?” he asked slowly.
“Every knife has a personality. Take this one here.”
Pa unfolded the parts one at a time—how could there be so many?—two bright
steel blades, an awl, a bottle opener, and even a magnifying glass. Perhaps it was
the magnifying glass that did it, pushed him from mere childish interest to awed
fascination.
“This knife,” Pa went on, “can do just about anything, from starting a fire to
skinning a skunk.”
“Pa!”
“It’s true!” And Pa had laughed and folded all the parts away and pressed it
back into his hand. “Just don’t tell your mother I gave it to you, okay? It’ll be
our secret, man to man.”