Darkness, nothing can be
seen, nothing can be heard. The feeling of unease builds until the tension is
broken by a loud mechanical sound. A screeching noise ensues as a panel of
light slowly moves from the bottom of the screen.
The black screen continues
to recede and we see the legs of a workbench. Paint pots are stacked in a
triangular fashion next to the workbench and drops of deep red paint fall
slowly, creating a crimson pool on the concrete floor. The sound of each drip
of paint echoes.
The enveloping light,
uncovers the remainder of the workbench and tools can be seen, hanging from
hooks, nailed into the brick wall.
The black screen finally
gives way to the light. The soft notes of a piano piece, Claire De Lune begin
as more of the space is revealed. A silhouetted figure appears from the right
and walks slowly into the room, towards the workbench. A man’s bare foot, steps
into the pool of red paint. The man continues unwavering, leaving a trail of
deep red footprints behind him on the floor.
The man turns and we see his
profile, he looks haggard and dishevelled, with a greying beard consuming his
face. The man closes his eyes, raises his arm and in one fluid motion, spins on
the spot slowly and in time to the music, he takes two steps before spinning
again with both arms spread wide. This move leads him to the tools hanging on
the wall, above the workbench.
We follow the man’s hand as
it moves slowly from the right, hovering above the selection of tools. The hand
passes over a spanner, a drill and a hammer before lingering at a hand saw. The
man drops his hand.
We see the man moving
cardboard boxes from a pile in the corner of the room and throwing screwdrivers
and car manuals across the floor before pausing as a hedge trimmer is revealed. The man smiles to himself and reaches
for the power-tool.
The music becomes distorted
as the CD skips; we are presented with the image of a dusty CD player, placed
on an unsteady stool.
We are faced with an image
of the man, brandishing the hedge trimmer leaning against a table, legs
extended in-front of him. He raises the power-tool as he switches it on, sparks
illuminate his hardened face.
The man positions the hedge
trimmer against his thigh, above his knee and begins to amputate his leg; a gaping
wound allows us to see the bone.
The stool and CD player
begin to shake as the sound of the power-tool and bone breaking reverberates
throughout the room. Blood dashes the CD player as it moves closer to the edge
of the stool before falling to the ground. As it crashes to the hard concrete
floor, the overpowering sound of the hedge trimmer ceases. The CD player has
landed next to a pile of books and papers. At the top of the small pile there
is a leaflet entitled “Coping with Body Integrity Identity Disorder”; it is
covered in blood splatters.
We move slowly to the left
and are presented with the man’s paint covered foot, we continue moving
following the line of his leg and reach the knee. The knee gives way to an
empty space on the floor, dowsed in blood. The sound of shuffling breaks the
tension and we see the man, a stump with the remains of the thigh bone exposed,
where his leg used to be. He groans and leans on his elbows on the cold floor,
puts his head back, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before donning a
content yet unnerving smirk.
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