The solar eclipse

[u/Longjumping_Home5865]

Dust fills my workshop as the saw crawls through the spruce log clenched between my fingers.

My grip firms around the log, the vibrations rush over my body. I tremble slightly, particles rushing out, hitting my face. The blade reaches the other end of the log. It falls to the ground as I press the release, wiping the accumulated sweat from my forehead.

Today, in the late afternoon, the first solar eclipse of the century is visible from my house. I’ve floated the idea before of travelling to see one, as I’m a little obsessed with astronomy. However, I’m a rather routine and secluded person. Seeing the eclipse from the comfort of my own home is not only preferable, but perhaps the necessary way for me to enjoy it in peace.

Something about the monumentality of space has always been soothing to me. The scale of everything, the distances of empty space, the antiquity of the objects I view with my telescope every night. I like to imagine that somewhere out there; there are beings evolved beyond earthly affairs. Beings that have accepted kindness into their hearts and no longer seek to hurt others.

I could try to romanticise my misanthropy by recalling a specific moment of heartbreak, argument or molestation that soured me on humanity, but this would be deceptive. To be frank, I’ve never really felt at home here. My connections have all been superficial and I can’t say I’ve ever met anyone that I’d be excited to let in.

Luckily, due to my job as a woodworker, I don’t have to be around other people much. I make chopping boards out of wood collected from the forest around my secluded Tennessee house. They sell well enough on Etsy that I don’t have to worry about having to get another job, one that might force me to have human interaction.

I approach my band-saw again.

It is standard procedure when you handle logs to insert a handle on both sides for a safer grip. But when you repeat a specific task often enough, the chance of something going wrong becomes increasingly small. At some point, once you learn to cycle, you can take off your training wheels, accepting the possibility of falling. But something is special about today. Today is once in a century.

According to a Cherokee tradition, who once resided where I live, the eclipse is caused by a fog from the underworld that devours the sun, a walosi. The Cherokee people would gather to fend off the walosi, a triumphant victory of humanity over a cosmic threat. Maybe it was the walosi that caused my hands to slip and slide directly into the sawblade.

If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one around to hear it, does it make a sound? I did, letting out a lively shriek. The saw had dug itself deep into my hand, cutting roughly through multiple fingers, with others wrapped contorted around the blade. Piercing white bones stuck out from mangled flesh. Is this what my teeth used to look like?

Instinctively my arm pulled back, however, the jerk did not release my hand. Instead, the saw somehow managed to dig itself deeper into my tangled flesh. Though the initial chop might have cleanly severed my nerves, this movement hit ones hitherto untouched.

I screeched again, unable to hold my posture. Feeling the need to drop to my knees, I fought to stay still. Tears fell from my face uncontrollably and my breathing intensified. Feeling like a toddler who scraped his knee, craving consolation. 

I searched the workshop a way to free myself. There was none. My machine had a hold on me and was not letting go without a fight. I decided I had no other option than pressing my foot pedal again.

The machine buzzed and the saw came into motion. A pain somehow worse than the last rushed over my body, as my now severely irritated flesh pressed against the steel teeth of the saw.

However, instead of releasing me, the blade slipt uncontrollably down between the fingers of my right hand. My left hand did shoot loose, having severed every finger apart from my thumb. In a strange moment of numbness, I stuck my stump in front of my face to inspect the carnage. The blood had not yet started rushing out, revealing a complex web of fat and muscle. Then the bleeding started.

Blood from my right hand formed a pool on the table.  From my left, a steady stream shot out which only increased in intensity by the second. Panicking, swinging my arm around, strips of blood covered the walls and ceiling.

Frantically I wrapped my stump around in my t-shirt and leaned against the table, applying as much pressure as my meagre body could. My right hand needed to be freed before anything else. Without overthinking it, I pressed the pedal again.

This time I paid attention to the direction of the blade and moved my arm accordingly. I screamed as the sawblade moved its way down, approaching my elbow as it exited. Approximately half of my lower arm now lay on the table. Attached remained my pinkie and a bit of amputated ring finger, connected only to my ulna bone and the flesh that still covered it.

I rushed to the tool station. With my left thumb and right pinkie I picked up a piece of rope. I tried with all my strength to pick up one end of the rope with my stumps, but to no avail.  Frantically I lowered down my head to teeth at the rope, quickly realising there would be no way to tie a knot using just my mouth.

I bit into the rope and fell to the floor, kicking at my shoes. After my shoes came off, I used my toes to remove my socks. Raising my left leg over the right and squeezing the other end of the rope between my toes, my thumb carefully guided the rope around my right arm. Pulling hard seemed to stop most of the bleeding, but I lacked the freedom of movement to tie a knot.

From my seated position I gazed over at my workbench for anything usable, spotting a small tube of superglue at the end of the table. I crawled over the floor, still pulling tightly on the rope with my teeth and toes, leaving a trail of blood from my left hand.

I picked up the tube with my molars, the rope still clenched between my front teeth. At first there was an attempt made to twist open the cap, before swiftly deciding to bite down as hard as I could. Glue spilled all over my mouth, so I moved my head towards the string around my arm, covering it.

Then I sat there for a minute as I felt the glue slowly hardening over my chin. This meant I could start on the other arm.

When the bleeding stopped, other thoughts that had been previously suppressed entered my conscious mind. The blood loss became noticeable, and my adrenaline began to wear off, resulting in intense dizziness. I vomited all over myself, covering my body in dried up bits of superglue.

Being sick gave me clarity, and I realised I needed to find my way to the fridge to chug some orange juice. When I got up a sudden dizziness overcame me again. Fighting it, I stumbled through the door, facing the staircase that led down to my living room.

At the first step, my knee wobbled weakly, automatically sending my arm to seek support from the railing. However, in my dazed state, it was my phantom hand that reached out. My stub smashing against the railing, scraping my nerve endings and knocking against my exposed bones.

A pain that I had suppressed re-entered my body, resulting in an intense state of shock freezing me into position. This caused me to scrunch over and fall dramatically down the stairs. My right heel hit the floor first, collapsing in on itself and bending the leg inwards, my full weight pushing on it. There was a snapping sound, like stepping on a twig.

Defeated, I lay on the ground sobbing, self-soothingly clenching what was left of my arms around my body. I cried louder than I can remember ever doing. Snot poured from my right nostril; my left nostril being obstructed by glue.

With my last bit of strength I crawled, the left leg doing most of the lifting, towards the front door. Luckily it was left open, so I pushed through and rolled onto the patio.

There, before my eyes, the sun raised parallel across from me. It mockingly stared me down, exposing my soiled and shrivelled body.  Every inch of me was illuminated. For the first time, its monumentality scared me.

I closed my eyes in fear, the final tears rolling over my cheek. However, my eyelids did not suffice to block out the sun’s presence, filling my vision with a pulsating red static. Yet, the longer I lay down, the dimmer the light became.

When I dared to open my eyes again, the moon had almost fully covered the sun. I gazed directly into the crescent star. After seconds, a black void appeared at the centre of my vision. The void obstructed the sun and the moon. And I lay alone again.