Chainsaw Cutting Crooked Novels & Stories

Nick says picking up the brittle looking cutters. He walked back to Nick and held them up. “These are not very sharp, but I think we can get them to work.” Nick takes them and tries to open the cutters. He barely got them loose and started to walk back to the truck for some wd-40. He sprayed the cutters and grabbed a knife sharpener. Once the cutters moved freely he started to sharpen the blades.

Chaskai went to pick it up but Nadia stopped him. “It’s silver you idiot. Don’t grab it.” Nadia said in a duh tone. “Alright, Aaron. Stay calm, okay? This is going to hurt a little more.” Cheyenne whispered to Aaron. Cheyenne took a deep breath and gently inserted the knife into the bullet wound and cut towards her making the slit big enough to fit her fingers through. “What are you doing?” Havana asked. “The neck is harder since there’s a whole lot of veins and arteries jumbled together. Very easy to cause damage. Trying to avoid that.” Cheyenne explained.

I call out as he lines up the mower into the first row and pulls the starter cord. The mower coughs to life, the sound loud, and Crispin raises a thumb as I walk inside in case he changes his mind. My problem doesn't show itself until I'm in the house and I don't know what to do. I sneak peeks at Crispin as he works his way back and forth in the yard, mowing the grass in the same weird pattern my brother uses—a crisscross back and forth in a diagonal pattern. It's like plaid for a yard. Sure, it makes the grass look cool, but cutting it alone takes a lot of work. I know there's no way I'd be able to pull it off on my own. I sneak my third peek out the window and find him shirtless. His muscl

Brian got off the machine and stepped closer to the tree line before examining the trees closer. “Brian?” James repeated. Brian gave him an annoyed look and ran his hands carefully through the brush up to where he could feel branches. “Can you get me the chainsaw? I think I’m going to have to trim it down quite a bit. The normal trimmer wouldn’t work here.” Brian replied thoughtfully and took a step into the intertwined trees. The branches tugged at his clothes and scratched his bare legs but he wanted to make sure how he needed to trim without hurting the trees.

he said, frustration clear on his face. I looked at the device again. It wasn't large, but the vent grille was narrow, and the metal bars left very little room to work with. The way he was holding it made the shape seem much bigger than it actually was. “Turn it diagonally.” “I already tried.” “Not that way.” He frowned at me, wearing that same stupidly confused expression on his face. I sighed and pointed toward the opening, trying to make him understand the angle without wasting another second. “Rotate it ninety degrees. Hold the thin edge toward the opening, then lower the bottom corner first.”

The sharp blade glistened in the moonlight, splitting the trunk as it went. The Ormr Dagger was inches away from Max after slicing through the tree trunk like soft cheese, who had no way of evading the attack. Right in the nick of time, Beggar King yanked Max sideways and hurriedly retreated. “Back off! We’ll have to tie him up with metal chains. He’s gone crazy!”

She turned briefly to say, "Sometimes, female charm is needed if you want to bring an asshole down." He chuckled. "And you just said that to me. Aren't you scared I will tell him?" She took a step towards him and leaned over. "Do you know how to mince meat if you don't have a grinder?" "No." His brows shot up. Why was this suddenly about meat? She leaned closer. "You place the meat on the chop board and use an extremely sharp knife to cut thin streaks at a forty-five degree angle, not all the way down, then you flip it and repeat."

Just motion and blood. She watched as a Fang tried to sideswipe him, swinging a crowbar. Jax swerved at the last instant, slid his knife free, and in a blur, slashed the man’s arm wide open. The Fang screamed, lost control, and the bike skidded hard into a ditch. Ashley’s stomach twisted—but she couldn’t look away.

Two bloodhounds prowled in the shadows, teeth flashing like broken daggers. The sword pulsed in my grip, Lachlan’s voice bleeding straight into my skull. Lachlan: “Your stance is crooked. Left foot forward. Put your weight there, not on your heels.” “I’m not some greenhorn,” I muttered, adjusting anyway. “I’ve swung hammers longer than you’ve swung that smug tongue.” The first hound lunged. I brought the blade up in a wide arc. Lachlan hissed in my head. Lachlan: “Too wide. Too slow. Slice, don’t chop. You’re not breaking an anvil, you’re cutting throats.”

I count my breaths to calm myself and Keenan returns, saw in hand. We check the blade, and the battery. Keenan ties another tourniquet above where we intend to cut as precaution. We have to work quickly, and I'm not sure either of us are ready. Keenan is older, and seasoned though. I feel more confident with him present. We take our positions and set up our 'station' and I squeeze the trigger that brings the saw to life.