Billy and the Hand

very short story

One day Billy was walking down the road.  It was a long curvy mountain road.  As he walked, he noticed that the asphalt was moving slightly.  This is probably heat waves, he said to himself.  Then he noticed that it was moving a little bit more, and actually starting to crack in a few places.  

I'd better stop and look at this, he said.  The cracks got slowly bigger, with kind of a rending sound, like what you would expect tearing asphalt to sound like.  This is definitely strange, said Billy.  Then a hand starting coming up out of the pavement.  Billy contemplated this.  Only the hand appeared, up to mid-forearm.  Should I just go around it?  thought Billy.

The hand stood there motionless.  Just a little twitching that all muscle things do.  Perhaps I should turn around now, said Billy.  So he went back home.  He didn't think about the hand the next day, or the next, but the day after that, he had a dream about the hand coming up out of the road again.

I'm going to walk again, he said, and the hand appeared again, coming up out of the pavement just like before.  Shall I try to cut it off?  said Billy, then maybe the road will close back up and be just like before.  Or perhaps the hand is friendly, and it could help me out.  Maybe there's a whole being under there, under the road.

Can I talk to you? said Billy.  The hand didn't respond, just the muscle quivering like before.  Billy thought hard.  I wonder if we could be friends?  The hand said yes, not out loud, though.  Is there more of you down there?  said Billy.  Not really, said the hand. Anything else we can talk about? Not really.  

So Billy went back home.  He didn't see the hand any more.  A few days later Billy had a dream where bully was chasing Billy.  The hand grabbed the bully and took squeezed him.