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Molt

Vaclav looked at his hands. His skin has started peeling off. He had experienced this before. Every time, a new Vaclav used to emerge from within. At first he used to dread it. But now, he waits for it. He knew that mother nature will have some surprise or the other in store for him. Last time a fair skinned Vaclav had emerged. This time what will it be? Vaclav couldn't wait anymore. He rushed to the taxidermist's shop. The taxidermist resembled one of his dust covered masterpieces. It was impossible to imagine him wielding a scalpel. His vision had blurred long back. His shop was in the ruins. These didn't deter Vaclav. He was eager to get out of his old skin. He lay on the taxidermist's table motionless yearning for salvation. Like always, the taxidermist disemboweled his new specimen with a clean sweep of his scalpel.


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