Lost My Digits

One of my first serious works. It's a bit rough and morbid, but if you're into that sorta thing...Yeah.

 I open my eyes. 

 Groggy would be the feeling as to which I feel at this moment. What the hell happened last night?

 I'm in my room, but this doesn't feel like my room. 

 Something is off. 

 I can't quite put my finger on it.

 At this moment I put my hand to my face to wipe some of the gathering sweat off of my forehead.

 Realization hits me.

 The reason as to why a reason could not be found. 

 There were no fingers to be placed upon a thing.

 I start to panic. 

 Anxiety fills my body. 

 Gravity increases.

 Looking at my nubbed hands in shock, I try and grab for my phone.

 I have no fingers.

 I look at my computer. 

 No hope.

 I look at my door. 

 Good gods.

 The world seems completely changed.

 How could this be? 

 Why? 

 When? 

 Where?

 WHO!?

 So many questions. So little fingers.

 I proceed to contemplate this new experience. 

 Fear continues to grow from within me. 

 A bright idea then pops into my head. 

 "Use both your hands to turn the nob on the door."

 My body moves almost by itself toward the portal. 

 

 Like an actor in his prime being directed by a genius, I make an attempt at fame.

 The door is barred from the outside.

 "You're in a real pickle this time, man. You hate the taste of this."

 "At least I can still taste."

 As these thoughts randomly enter my mind, I begin to walk around my room. 

 "How do I get out of this?"

 The window was my next destination.

 "Hurricane season." 

 Boards are bolted over it in hopes to defend against debris. 

 "Oh! Sweet irony."

 My room, where I have spent many evenings enjoying myself, has slowly been transformed into

a prison cell. 

 The taste of despair is about all I can taste at this point. 

 With this new found flavor I spit it out in the form of screams for help.

 This goes on for about, what I would assume to be, an hour or so. 

 I go silent. 

 There's no one around. 

 I am a tree with many stumps and I've fallen alone.

 Anger takes a hold of me. 

 The old questions from before circle in my head.

 WHO!?

 WHO!? WHO!? WHO!? WHO!?

 I look toward my phone. He has to be somewhere in there.

 Trying to work a phone with your feet is quite a feat.

 Have you ever tried it? 

 Damn near impossible with a smart phone.

 My attempts were almost instantly devalued.

 Whether my sim card was taken or my service disconnected, I will never know. 

 Either way, no calls will be sent from here.

 In tears I gaze at my computer. 

 I move the mouse to destroy the screen saver from existence and look at my internet connection. 

 Nothing.

 A sound emits itself from my mouth. 

 I can't tell you exactly what it is, but it doesn't seem to be connected to myself. 

 As if the gates of hell were opened, the cries of demons are exhaled from my mouth.

 I once again fall silent. 

 Defeated by this cruel game.

 I eventually decide to lie back in my bed. 

 "Someone will come looking for me. Someone has to know I'm here."

 Darkness consumed the world.

 I'm not going to bore you with the next couple of days of hunger, thirst, and panic.

 These are things I will leave to your imagination.

 Instead, I'll skip to the third day.

 By this point, I can feel death creeping upon me. 

 Dehydration has taken a toll on me. 

 I gaze around my prison. 

 Dents and holes are scattered in the walls.

 I suppose you can say this next part is the punch line in this little tale.

 Rolling out of my bed, I let my weak body crash onto the floor.

 This is when I see what I've been missing all this time.

 There, propped up mockingly, are my fingers flipping me off.

 If I could cry I would at this point, but I notice a piece of paper.

 I grab at it with my toes and open this little gift.

 What it said, I will remember until the day I die.

 "HAHAHA! Go finger yourself!"

Author's Note

Feel free to give me feedback of all kinds. I'm a big boy.