The Razor

As I feel my stubble on my chin.
I stare at my straight-razor,
sitting patiently on my sink top.
It twinkles menacingly in the neon overhead light.
Almost as if trying to communicate with me.

But alas,
I know all too well-
precisely what it is endeavoring to tell me.
And I furthermore comprehend,
that once I grasp its glorious galvanized handle.
I shall feel those intense, overwhelming, delicious desires once more.

The desire to hunt my prey.
The desire for human blood.
The desire to manically mutilate

Yet in spite of this knowledge,
and perhaps because of it,
my trembling hand reaches out,
almost despite itself.

I watch on helpless;

And as the cold steel meets my clammy flesh,

I know,

after three nights of resistance,


Jack is back .

P.S. Gifford

P.S. Gifford is a published horror author of great talent. He started submitting stories around 2005. His short stories are by far some of the best and most entertaining that I have read. Around that time he was invited to write columns which are titled "Paperback Writer."

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