The Devil's hands (Me - You)

The Devil's hands

The noise of a circular saw snapped him back to consciousness. Not so much, just enough for his head to hold one single thought. "But I had switched it off!"

Novak truly had switched it off, immediately after having sewed the bottom of a door, as to make it fit its frame. He then went on to hang it in the kitchen, but from the moment it slid in its hinges, his mind blurred. His eyes swam in the twilight. Mist. He felt as if the thick Sumava forest behind the fence did not exist. His whole body was paralyzed with strong narcotics, on top of that his wrists and ankles were tied by a rope, the remainders of which were lying in the garage under the working table. But he did not know that, just as he did not know who had dragged him from the kitchen to the garden.

A strong twitch in his shoulder brought back movement to his one hundred and ten kilos, distributed in almost two meters, in the direction of the circular saw. Around his head, a foreign hand passed by. Had he been conscious, he would surely have thought of the news that together with his wife, he had watched on TV the day before in Prague.

‚A suicider jumped under a running train in the metro,' announced the presenter in the studio. He was dead on the spot. Naturally, thought Novak.

Just the fact that the wheels chopped off both of his hands, that had yet to be found, was a little surprising.

‚Maybe they are looking for a new body,' joked Novák. His wife just mockingly tapped her forehead.