Story for performance #414
webcast from London at 08:37PM, 08 Aug 06

has seen his own aura
Source: Neil MacFarquhar, ‘Hezbollah’s leader becomes a new icon’, New York Times in International Herald Tribune online, 08/08/06.
Writer/s: Ross Murray

…and this fella was always makin’ jokes about his cut off hand.
‘…’
Happened just after I moved here. He said it was a car accident. Personally I don’t think there are any accidents. Something always happens for a reason. Anyway in this story, apparently, he had his hand out the window smokin’ a ciggie and some small critter ran out in front of him, he swerved, it was wet, he lost control, didn’t get his hand inside quick enough and hit a road sign, slicing his hand off at the wrist. Drove himself to hospital too. Don’t know how he did that. That’s the story he told at the hospital anyway.
‘…’
Didn’t have time to look for it. They sent some coppers out to have a look at the time but they couldn’t find anything. Not surprising really. There was a creek nearby. May have gone flyin’ into that.
‘…’
Or wild animals and such. They don’t mind a free feed.
‘…’
Yeah, well, the lucky bastard was actually married to the best lookin’ nurse in the hospital. Can’t remember her name. Long legs. Blonde. Not natural.
‘…’
I mean her hair.
‘…’
They had three kids. In quick succession too, as I recall. Didn’t last though. After the accident she just up and left one day. Not a word. Took the kids too.
‘…’
He was devastated at the time. Had to work the farm on is own, and at that stage it wasn’t a profitable place.
‘…’
Eh?
‘…’
Oh, well, the other story, the one I tend to prescribe to is a little…off-putting.
‘…’
There’s just a few things that don’t add up. His next door neighbour heard this massive yell over at his place and not long after saw his ute screaming up the road.
‘…’
The other thing was that they reckon his tourniquet seemed a bit too well done. The wife and kids weren’t home that night either, so they couldn’t have tied it on.
‘…’
It’d be pretty hard to tie a knot with only one hand, don’t you think? Especially if blood’s pissin’ out where the other should’ve been. There wasn’t much blood on his ute or the sign he reckoned he hit either, but like I said, it’d been raining so…
‘…’
I mean in a town like this, if people tell you something, you take their word for it, don’t ya?
‘…’
Yeah, but the thing is that when he first went in to hospital, they shunted him in to emergency and of course he had x-rays, y’know, to see if he’d broken anything anywhere else in his body. He didn’t know it at the time ‘cause they’d knocked him out with about enough anaesthetic to drop a horse, but when the x-rays came back, bugger me dead if his hand wasn’t still there. On the x-ray. Bones ‘n’ all.
‘…’
Don’t ask me how. I dunno how. It just was. When the doctor’s showed him he just smiled and thanked them for showing him a part of his aura he’d never seen before. Now what d’you reckon that meant?
‘…’
Nah. Never saw it meself, but Johnno did. You ask him next time he’s around.
‘…’
Oh, he tends to drop in every other Christmas to see his mum.
‘…’
Y’know how you hear those stories of phantom hands but you wouldn’t expect one to show up on an x-ray, would ya? Sometimes when he was a bit pissed he’d go for his beer with his stump. Now, he’d never knock his beer over though, and one time I swear it looked like his arm was resting at just the right angle to be holding his beer, as if his hand was still there. Those same neighbours who heard the scream that night they were sure they saw him pickin’ up and using a chainsaw in his far back paddock a few months after he left hospital, one of those big bastards that there’s no way you can use one-handed, I don’t care how strong you are.
‘…’
He never bothered to get one fitted. Said it wouldn’t feel natural. Like only havin’ one hand is natural!
‘…’
The joke is that you can always do with an extra hand on a property, but when he lost one, his place went from near bankruptcy to a record auction price for the district!
‘…’
So what am I saying? Well, if you ask me, and I guess you just did, then I’d tell you I went out to his place and there was a nice big chopping block out the back all covered in blood. Where he killed his chickens, he said. There’s always some slaughtering to be done on the farm, he said. That place, it just gave me…just a bad feeling. Not ill, or anxious, or uncertain, or creepy. Just bad. I felt the essence of what bad is. Badness came from all directions. The ground, the air, everywhere.
‘…’
I can’t prove anything, still, I reckon something dark, something…unwholesome went on out there. He lost a hand, but he got somethin’ else in return. As for the wife and kids…I wouldn’t like to speculate too much.
‘…’
It’s a strange one, all right.
‘…’
Nah, he doesn’t live around here anymore.
‘…’
Overall, he was a good fella, y’know, just a bit weird, though. For my liking.

Adapted for performance by Barbara Campbell from a story by Ross Murray.