Hands Down

Busy hands are bad hands.

When I was 5, I saw it for the first time. The hand " the lone hand, indistinguishable from a shadow, resting upon my uncle’s shoulder. As time passed, I started to see more of the hands. Not just on him, but on other people as well. Some would just have one hand rested upon them, but others were covered in the hands. I did not tell anyone about it though. I instinctively knew that it would only cause trouble if I said anything about them.

When I was 12, my uncle died from a heart attack. He was always working, and the pressure must have gotten to him. His death had not hit me as hard as it should have. It was probably because I had seen him the day before. Well, actually, I would not use the word ‘seen’. He had been covered in the hands. The hands had separated him from me before he even died. At his funeral, I noticed that the hands had vanished from his body. I also noticed that there seemed to be a few more hands resting upon my aunt’s shoulder.

When I was 17, I looked at myself in the mirror. I realized long ago that the hands were signs of death. As a result, I always avoided mirrors, scared of what I might see.

I gaped at what I saw.

The hands were coming from me.

Reviews

[Crimson Bayonet]

Huh, not what I expected. But still quite a....let's just say, a "unique" perspective. I mean, the hands of death can be seen by some people. Unfortunately, this young man can see them. And since he looked in the mirror, that pretty meant he was next. Apparently, curiosity killed the cat. Anyways, you still could have done better, but I still respect the effort you have put into this chapter! :)