The Devil’s Playground

He pinned his hand to the worn, wooden floor using the nail gun from last year’s renovations. Three quick jabs pierced his flesh, sending sharp pains through his fingers and up his arm. He let out a hissed growl, fighting back tears.

Reaching for the handsaw with his free hand, he felt the fingers of his trapped hand strain against the floor to pull itself free. ‘No more,’ he thought, bringing the handsaw to his wrist. “I won’t let you wreak anymore havoc.”

He gripped the sharp tool tight with his free hand while he sawed into his thick arm. The growl turned into a pained scream. Doubt set into his mind. He could stop now, free his hand, and run to the hospital to rectify the damage.

His mind flashed with images of his strangled wife. The way her lifeless body lied on their bedroom floor, hugging the bodies of their headless children. All by his hand.

‘The Devil’s hand,’ he was reminded. It moved with a mind of its own. How? He did not know.

He continued cutting, wanting to separate his being from the menace.

Crimson spewed from his wound, but he ignored the pain and the feeling of weightlessness that came with the loss of blood. When he finished, he fell to his back, bittersweet tears rolling down his cheeks. He watched the unattached hand twitch.

Closing his eyes, he let out a deep sigh. He was glad to rid his body of the demon.

The happy ending was short-lived. His eyes shot open at the realization that he cut off the wrong hand.

This isn’t an original story. If anything, I got the idea from an old late 90s movie called Idle Hands. It starred Seth Green, Devon Sawa, and Jessica Alba. Still, it was one of those ideas that couldn’t be stopped. Your mind won’t let it go, so you have to put it down, let it out, and move on. Hope you enjoyed it.


Talk to me. I'm lonely.

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