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Great Writing - Home > Short S. > Under the Hand
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Shorts
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| Under the Hand | |
| By alastair79 | ||||||||||
| 28 June 2007 | ||||||||||
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Haven’t posted for about a year as I’ve been too busy with work and cars and money and well life in general I suppose, but had a little free time so thought I’d have a go again. Sorry, I’m a bit rusty and the stories a bit clunky but you’ve got to throw yourself back into it somewhere haven’t you, plus it’s quite short. This little tale is about awkward moments we all have at some point in life. Thanks. Alastair.Crafted from bronze and tempered steel, the statue rose from the town square shaped like the almighty hand of some buried Herculean god. The fingers were curled round as if holding a sword, the nails shabby and the palm callused. A scar ran from the knuckle of its thumb down to where the wrist vanished into the ground. Weathered greening bronze giving a ghoulish feeling that the hand was rotting like the fallen in some long lost battlefield, forgotten and discarded to the elements. The hand cast it’s shadow down over two young lovers sitting on a bench, backs pressed against the bronze work watching life slide past with distant darkening eyes. Their bodies which once held each other so tight to be mistaken for one soul now noticeable by the gulf between them as they leaned gently away from each other. The girl shifted uncomfortably, crossing her legs away from him and smoothing down her skirt. She focused across the square to a shop she often went in and noticed there was a sale sign in the window, making a mental note she purposefully let her eyes go from shop to person to seagull making sure they were all in the one direction. Gently clearing her throat she felt his gaze for a moment, expecting her to break the silence then it slid slowly away again. The boy intently examined his hands as they lay in his lap, turning them over and over, then clenching them into fists as tight as he could so the blood was forced away from the knuckles. Getting agitated he pushed them deeply into his pockets and started scanning the square. Quickly he picked out an old man feeding the pigeons and focused completely on the scene. Agonizingly and uncontrollably his hands continued to clench. He flicked his eyes to her again then back to the pigeons. One of them had a damaged wing and another some sort of tag around its leg. Making sure that her legs were working she slowly rose and waited for him to join her. He shot up and scanned her face for a sign one way or another. She closed the foot gap between them and took one of his big hands in hers. Pressing a ring into his palm from the usual comfortable place on her finger she let a single tear roll down her face. Leaning up she kissed his on his cheek then turned and walked away. He watched her go before slumping back onto the bench biting his lip to force his emotions into pain. There he stayed till the last light was bright on the horizon, the suns final hurrah for today. He stood up, stretching slightly he put the ring on the bench and then left the square. One beam made a last heroic effort and it hit the diamond ring full, sending a rainbow of light burning across the bronze. For a moment their love lived in the hand; it held it gently till the sun slid from view.
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