The Whacker purring in my hands, I began running the business end over dead faces nailed to the wall. If that was the conduit of my flesh, then I had to destroy them. As the spinning cord touched the first face, an empty-eyed male with a mustache, the flesh blew apart like gelatin and made a sickening sound as chunks of face began to fly from the wall.

I swept the wall with the Whacker and soon it was raining fleshy debris. Outside I heard slamming and banging as the skinny man made his way into the house. He was yelling my name. There was anger and panic in his voice. I knew I was on the right track. I’d disturbed the hex.

I quickly worked my way around the walls of the confined room, slashing and mowing the faces of the skinny man’s victims. Chunks and dust flew, blinding me as I saw a shape appear in the doorway. It was the skinny man, but he wasn’t skinny anymore. He filled the doorway with his new stolen body.

When he saw what I was doing he charged at me. I was defenseless except for the Weed Whacker so I spun at my hips and connected with the side of his face as he barreled in. His face tore open and howled. He also broke the circle. My feet snapped free and I fell backward against the wall with only the lawn tool between my withered body and the skinny man.

“You think you’re so fucking great!” he yelled.

I had no idea what he was talking about.

I clocked him right across his nose with the whirling plastic blade and split his face open. He grabbed at his face, but it was too late. The dried flesh flecks clouding the room began to stick to the wound, and soon the gash was a vacuum sucking in the dust.

I could feel my strength returning, but not fast enough. The killer let go of his face and grabbed me by my jacket. He lifted me off the ground and pounded me back and forth against one wall, then the other. I tried to hit him with the blade again. I was too close. He yanked it from my hands and smashed it onto the floor.

I tried my best to resist, to get a few choice punches in, but I was still weak. On his face the two gashes I’d made were bloated with murdered flesh particles crawling inside the killer’s body. I planted my palm into the bridge of his nose and made another bloody opening. The particles leapt from the air into his face, attacking the opening.