Skip to main content

Red Right Hand



I've grown accustomed to the feeling; the loss of authority over my own body, the fear that I would never experience normalcy.  But the worst was the ever present fear of ending up in some lab, being referred to by a number rather than my name.  I longed for life away from people. A place where I could live alone, and not worry about the next horrible thing I'd be forced to do.  "It" had been with me for as long as I could remember. "It" being the evil that's rooted in my right hand. This wasn't simply an impulse to do bad things on my part.  My right hand lay dormant until it chose to spring forward, causing whatever awful act it sought-after in that moment, before giving me full control once again. 

When I was younger it was easier to ignore. I never could control it, but sometimes I was able to suppress it, and most times I succeeded. By my teens I was considered a problem child. I'd stolen from my mother's purse, vandalized the school's gymnasium, and wrote profanity on my grandmother's grave in permanent marker. All bad things but nothing too terrible.  But somehow, the day I turned 23 my ability to ignore the evil impulses of my right hand suddenly became a lot harder. I found myself struggling to suppress it. Even worse, whenever I tried, the more terrible its deed. I learned quickly not to fight it.  By the time I turned 26 I'd stolen everything from money to a child's wheelchair. I flipped off more elderly ladies than I care to count, and damaged quite a bit of property. I'd even been arrested several times. As you can imagine, I try to stay far away from other people. I work from home most days and do the majority of my shopping online. 

Unfortunately there are times when I have to go out, and my right hand is usually itching by then. At this point I let it have its fun. I know attempts to avoid it only aggravates it more. Though it's not normally violent, the last time I tried fighting it, resulted in a teenage barista receiving a scalding cup of coffee to her face. 

So now I simply allow my right hand to satisfy its cravings whenever it needs. That might make me weak or even just as guilty, but I don't have a choice. I need to save all my energy, all my strength for resisting the homicidal urges of my left hand. Because while my right hand has caused a lot of damage, judging by the bodies piling up in the crawlspace my left hand is capable of much much worse.

---

Credits

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Wish Come True (A Short Story)

I woke up with a start when I found myself in a very unfamiliar place. The bed I was lying on was grand—an English-quilting blanket and 2 soft pillows with flowery laces. The whole place was fit for a king! Suddenly the door opened and there stood my dream prince: Katsuya Kimura! I gasped in astonishment for he was actually a cartoon character. I did not know that he really exist. “Wake up, dear,” he said and pulled off the blanket and handed it to a woman who looked like the maid. “You will be late for work.” “Work?” I asked. “Yes! Work! Have you forgotten your own comic workhouse, baby dear?” Comic workhouse?! I…I have became a cartoonist? That was my wildest dreams! Being a cartoonist! I undressed and changed into my beige T-shirt and black trousers at once and hurriedly finished my breakfast. Katsuya drove me to the workhouse. My, my, was it big! I’ve never seen a bigger place than this! Katsuya kissed me and said, “See you at four, OK, baby?” I blushed scarlet. I always wan...
Post a Comment
Read more

Hans and Hilda

Once upon a time there was an old miller who had two children who were twins. The boy-twin was named Hans, and he was very greedy. The girl-twin was named Hilda, and she was very lazy. Hans and Hilda had no mother, because she died whilst giving birth to their third sibling, named Engel, who had been sent away to live wtih the gypsies. Hans and Hilda were never allowed out of the mill, even when the miller went away to the market. One day, Hans was especially greedy and Hilda was especially lazy, and the old miller wept with anger as he locked them in the cellar, to teach them to be good. "Let us try to escape and live with the gypsies," said Hans, and Hilda agreed. While they were looking for a way out, a Big Brown Rat came out from behind the log pile. "I will help you escape and show you the way to the gypsies' campl," said the Big Brown Rat, "if you bring me all your father's grain." So Hans and Hilda waited until their father let them out, ...
2 comments
Read more

Choking on Ink

My grandmother told me when she was in high school an old math teacher in his 60’s named Harold Davidson was teaching math and one of his students wouldn’t stop tapping his pen during class.  The teacher went berserk and lost his mind. He snatched the pen and attacked the kid, lodging the pen down the child’s throat while his classmates looked on screaming. While struggling, the kid kicked the teacher in the chest with the little energy he had left. The teacher collapsed and they both died at the same time. When school was back in session and math class began with the new teacher, the class noticed that a weird symbol appeared on the chalk board. The symbol had lines inside of a circle. All the lines within the circle were the common math symbols = + x and division.  If you outline certain parts of the symbol it looks as if a pacman shape has a line going through its mouth or maybe a head getting choked with a pen. The teacher asked who drew it but no one came f...
Post a Comment
Read more