THE CUT: By Chad Case
Thursday, May 13th, 2010The cut opened up again last night, and Raymond Plait’s stomach knotted in a pretzel.
He hated feeding the cut.
Such a hassle, he thought, I hate the sight of blood, and I really hate that I have to kill someone!
But he looked down at the gash on his left hand. It’s gapping hole was deep and dark red. “Need blood!” the cut said.
“No,” Raymond whined, tears swelled in his eyes. “I can’t kill again!” He thought about the last time. He had liked the cute brunette with huge brown eyes. But he didn’t like the fact that he hit her in head with a shovel, then place his left hand in her warm blood, and sit there while the cut slurped it up. “I can’t do that again,” he added sadly.
“Need blood!”
“No.”
“Need blood!”
“I said I can’t!” Raymond yelled, slamming his hand on the table. The cut mumbled something. Raymond did not hear it, but he knew what it had said. The cut only said one phrase … ‘Need blood!’
Raymond closed his eyes, praying that the cut would heal up. But he knew better. The cut had been around for years, and every attempt that he had made to sew it up ended in failure.
“How do I rid myself of you?” Raymond asked, opening his hand.
“Need blood!”
He squinted his eyes. “You can’t survive without me, can you?”
“Need blood!”
Raymond grabbed his car keys, headed for his faded-red Pathfinder and raced to the hardware store where he bought a hacksaw for $7.79.
“That’s a hell-of-a-deal,” he mumbled as the cashier rang him up.
Raymond Plait returned home at 8:47. He grabbed several towels and headed for the garage. He placed his left hand on the workbench, took-in several slow breaths. Then, without hesitation, began to saw the dreaded hand off. He clinched his teeth so tightly that he broke a molar. Tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with the blood. His left hand opened and closed briskly until he hit bone.
Raymond’s muscular chest rose. “Not much longer now,” he said breathless. He gritted his teeth again, and put all of his weight down on the saw. It went through the bone easier than he thought it would. His whole body trembled as he wrapped his wound.
“It’s over now,” he sighed, feeling dizzy. Raymond sat down and gawked at the hand. It lay palm down in a puddle of crimson blood. His heart jumped as the slurping started.
“No!” he cried, grabbing the saw. “You can’t still be alive! There’s no way in hell that you’re still alive!”
***
“His name was Raymond Plait,” Officer Nash began, covering Raymond’s body with a white sheet. “A neighbor found him like this this morning.” He paused, looking at the blood-covered saw. “It looks like he cut off his left hand then, tried to cut his head plump-off.”
Jamaal Jefferson, a tall, fresh-faced rookie, face grew pale. “What do you need me to do, Sir?”
“Grab that saw and put it in the trunk of my cruiser.”
Jamaal picked it up.
Officer Nash added, “But be careful it might be…”
“Ouch!” Jamaal screamed, dropping the saw. He stared at the gash on his hand. It was deep, dark red and looked like a mouth. He could have swore that he seen it’s lips move. He held his hand up to his ear. It whispered, “Need blood!”
___________________
© 2009 by Chad Case
Chad Case lives in Lawrenceburg, Kentucky, with his wife, Melissa. He enjoys writing short horror fiction in his spare time. To date his works have been published on MicroHorror.com, The New Flesh Blogzine, Flashes In The Dark, Flashshot, and in the anthology: Toe Tags.
