Chainsaw Cutting Crooked Novels & Stories

“If you see the front hooves or nose in the wrong position, we may need to manually adjust—but extremely carefully.” Right then, the deer pushed again, violently. This time, I caught a clear sign that something was off.

I growl. I put the knife to my mouth and cut into my left cheek and sliced upwards. Blood begins to pour. “Like I said. I feel nothing!” I laugh. Xane and Alex stand and watch in horror. “So if you wanted to do anything else, it won’t bother me one bit!” I yell as I slice my right cheek. “Dude! He’s just gave himself a Chelsea Grin! What the hell!” Alex screams. I laugh hysterically. “Do you not want your knife back?” I chuckle.

I could feel the tightness of a light burn on my skin, and didn't want to exacerbate it. Halfway through taking care of the wayward branch, and a few of its buddies, I found Dan working his way up the trail behind me, his weed-whacker announcing his presence before he got to me. He was trimming back the sorry excuse for a road, occasionally taking his machete to any bigger stuff extending out over the 10 foot wide set of twin dirt ruts. I had the branch cleared out and was cutting it to size, once more creating a wood stack that we could fetch later, when he finally got to me. He shut down the noisy gas tool, and took a breather.

I huffed a laugh. “Good job,” I praised, noting the way his face flushed a bit. God, he was so easy. I continued after he muttered a thanks under his breath, “You were close, but not quite.” “Cutting off her middle finger would be stressful because of its position and the item we're using. Not to mention it'd be a bitch to treat. You understand?” I waved the garden shears in my hands, and he nodded in understanding. “In that case, it'd be easier to get rid of the…” I trailed off, waving my hand in a gesture that meant he was meant to finish my sentence.

As long as I was concerned, this person only wanted me to do something that I wasn't completely in tune with. I swiveled, crouching just in time to escape the chainsaw, almost brushing my neck. "You were saying?" I raised a brow as I punched him in the chest

She explained and showed him the right way by putting her finger and her thumb at the very back of the knife and wrap her fingers around it. “In this way you have a firm grip and when you chop you’re going to be in control of what you’re doing. It might feel uncomfortable at first but with time it’ll become second nature to you. If you put your finger on top of the knife, or if you hold too far back on the handle, or if you have a dainty grip, these are all incorrect ways.” She also explained the common mistake in cutting just like to have all the fingers laid flat, where fingers are in danger of getting cut off. And the slicing motion, that if he chop really aggressively down he will not go

I pushed my chair even jumping on it backwards until I got to the drawer, I stretched my hand the best I could when I felt a sharp cut. Shit it was a knife and I was it’s first victim, I take my mind of the cut and make my way around, launching the chair backward and causing it to lean on the drawers. My hands get closer to the handle making sure to stay away from the sharp edges until I was able to grab it.

The first round punched our fore ripple, hissed through nothing useful, and made Freckles swear he’d felt it part his hair. “Hold your head still, and it won’t have to choose,” Jas advised. He waited, waited, eyes half lidded like a cat pretending sleep, then snapped the lanyard. Our chain huffed into the cold air, kissed water, and skated across the seam into the cutter’s path. The lead boat tried to lift her nose over it and failed. Chain bit bow, then dove, the cold water dragging it down where warm couldn’t help. The cutter slowed a fraction, not enough to shame her, just enough to make her pretty angle go wrong. “Reload,” Kade said. Calm. Funeral calm.