Survival knife

could kill anyone if you’re the target. Also the other power he had is o He had two types of secret weapon in his pockets. One is the hand bladed, is a spearheaded shaped knives, complete with a handle and a hole. It doubles as a light weight throwing knife and close combat melee weapon. The hole may be attached to string or wires. Due to the

the terrible sickness one calls living. The dark, black door easily slid open with the slightest push of my cold hands. The three hound lay silently by the door, deep bloody cuts covering their bodies, not like that of claws, but like that of a long knife. In the middle of the room, right where I had laid her, she laid, not a scratch on her body, aside from the deep wound stabbing through her back and out her chest. Her body was soaked in crimson, like the deep, red petals of an autumn rose. However

The Slice of a Knife He didn’t look that dead. Apart from the river of blood rushing out the gaping neck wound, he looked pretty much the same as he did a few minutes before. His hand was still clasped around his bottle of beer and face was still frozen in a permanent gaze of boredom. The only thing different about James’s face was the single tear that rolled down his cheek and hung on the cliff of his chin amongst his stubble. As it fell from his face, his body smashed forward into the wooden table

“Dad, I can’t talk, I'm heading out right now,” I said while hugging the phone with my shoulder up to my ear. He told me to be cautious on the roads, considering the blizzard we had just had a few days ago. It was an unusually calm day in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. A perfect day to travel, the snow on the ground glistened as it had just been freshened with a new coat from the light snowfall early this morning. The sun was barely noticeable from the distance as the tip of it lit up the outline

It was the morning of August 15, 1944, though to Edgar Tratt, it seemed like any other morning, any other day. The breakfast laid on the table, not a sip or bite was taken. The meal was light with bread spread with jelly and the coffee just waiting to be consumed on the table. After a while from looking out the window, he sat on the table and ate his breakfast. The bread was tasteless and unappetizing; the jelly spread on being the only saving grace. The coffee was bland and tasted like a boiled

quickly of a plan, some sort of scapegoat. The bandit was closing in, and the man's heart began to beat faster and louder. It was all he could hear. Come on grab your knife! His arms were disobedient. They wouldn't move. The throwing of the initial knives had taken their toll, and now he is facing the consequences. The bandit lifts his knife up high, and a spark lights in the mans mind. Mistake. The man kicks off from the ground sending dirt towards the bandit and sending the man backwards far enough

When you sit down at your dinner table do you ever wonder about the fork, knife, and spoon? The history of eating utensils goes way back to the first human-beings when they started eating with their fingers but over time their eating methods were refined and they started to use spoons, knifes, and forks. Many people were hesitant to make the switch to eating utensils like the English. In the medieval-times people used their fingers but as time passed they started to use forks. “As the diners enter

I loved Bob with all my heart, or as much as you could love someone in 1252 in England as a female. I have told you about Bob before, haven’t I? He knew everything about me-from my favorite color to my deepest secrets. We did everything together, too; we went to the pond together, we went to the market together, we even ate together. We always exchanged “I love you” whenever we saw each other, and everyone thought we would eventually get married. He cared about me, and I cared about him. We

The home was fully alarmed and had sentries deliberately posted inside and out, but it made no difference to him. He slipped from shadow to shadow, silently advancing toward his prey with the slyness of a cougar. Small arsenals of weapons were at his disposal and hung from the compartment around his waist slightly open and ready. Soft shoes and an even softer step made his approach silently and deadly. His dark clothing, years of training and experience gave him a distinct

The knife is one of the oldest tools used by humanity so it should come as no surprise that there are almost as many myths about knives as there are types of knives. These myths are not just some old folk tales told around a camp fire but myths that are actually thought to be true in the present day time. There are myths about how to care for knives and myths about how to use them. They all have something that sticks in the mind or they would not have lasted long enough to become myths. Any buyer