kyutfeys
Jan 8, 2001, 07:53 AM
Hands
An American patriot was walking down a winding dirt path, musket shooter in hand, sword holstered, when he came upon a strange site.
"What is this?" he said to himself.
It was a bloody dagger that he saw, but even stranger was the body the dagger was stuck in, a British soldier with both hands loped off. Stranger more was that the dagger was grasped by a by a hand, a disembodied hand. The soldier was sickened by this site, so he went on.
The soldier followed the mesmerizing sound of piano music that bellowed from deep within the forest. By the time he reached the small cabin in the clearing the music had stopped. He beat on the door and asked if anyone was home. Then he went around the cabin and peered through a small window. Inside was a room with a table with two chairs and a piano, nothing else. On the table was a half-melted candle and a small dagger.
The soldier went back around the cabin where he met a small, dark figure in the cabin doorway. "Come in," the figure told him.
Both stepped into the cabin. In the better light, the soldier saw that the figure was wearing an oversized robe and everything but his face was still a mystery to the soldier. He saw that the man had a rugged shave and deep brown eyes, but the thing that caught the soldier's eye was that the man had a scar on the right side of his face. It was a scar made by a small dagger.
"Come in here," the man told the soldier, standing in the doorway of the piano room. He followed the man to the table and sat with him. Even through the man had long legs he walked very slowly and stiffly, like a dead man would.
The soldier noticed a piece of paper, with writing on the reverse side, flipped upside down, next to the dagger. He was about to speak but the man stopped him,"I have nothing to offer you except my music," he paused,"and death."
Just then the soldier noticed a pair of bony hands, in a puddle of blood, under the window. "Who are you!?!?," the soldier demanded jumping up from his chair.
"I am Ivan the piano player," he replied, rising from his seat. He extended his arms toward the soldier. Ivan had no hands! Just bare stumps. Someone must have cut them off, right at the wrists.
"You're a freak!"
"No I am cursed, cursed from my hands and my music, I am cursed to take another's hands and pass the curse on to their poor soul." Suddenly the dagger rose into the air. It flew at the soldier, right at his head. He dodged the dagger and it stuck in the wall.
"I'll end your curse," the soldier said taking out his gun. He aimed the gun as Ivan came at him. Then he fired, right through Ivan, right through the window and into the forest.
"Heh, heh, heh, I am not alive."
Out of fright the soldier dropped his gun. "Y-y-y you're a ghost," he gulped.
"No," Ivan replied,"a phantom."
From out of nowhere the soldier's sword fell out of its sheath. He was unable to react and the sword sliced through his left hand. Screaming in pain with blood covering his face and clothes, he didn't notice the sword coming back around until his right hand was lying in a pool of blood on the floor. He went unconscious.
When the soldier awoke he was wearing the robe. He got-up from the cold ground and read the piece of paper: this is THE END.
An American patriot was walking down a winding dirt path, musket shooter in hand, sword holstered, when he came upon a strange site.
"What is this?" he said to himself.
It was a bloody dagger that he saw, but even stranger was the body the dagger was stuck in, a British soldier with both hands loped off. Stranger more was that the dagger was grasped by a by a hand, a disembodied hand. The soldier was sickened by this site, so he went on.
The soldier followed the mesmerizing sound of piano music that bellowed from deep within the forest. By the time he reached the small cabin in the clearing the music had stopped. He beat on the door and asked if anyone was home. Then he went around the cabin and peered through a small window. Inside was a room with a table with two chairs and a piano, nothing else. On the table was a half-melted candle and a small dagger.
The soldier went back around the cabin where he met a small, dark figure in the cabin doorway. "Come in," the figure told him.
Both stepped into the cabin. In the better light, the soldier saw that the figure was wearing an oversized robe and everything but his face was still a mystery to the soldier. He saw that the man had a rugged shave and deep brown eyes, but the thing that caught the soldier's eye was that the man had a scar on the right side of his face. It was a scar made by a small dagger.
"Come in here," the man told the soldier, standing in the doorway of the piano room. He followed the man to the table and sat with him. Even through the man had long legs he walked very slowly and stiffly, like a dead man would.
The soldier noticed a piece of paper, with writing on the reverse side, flipped upside down, next to the dagger. He was about to speak but the man stopped him,"I have nothing to offer you except my music," he paused,"and death."
Just then the soldier noticed a pair of bony hands, in a puddle of blood, under the window. "Who are you!?!?," the soldier demanded jumping up from his chair.
"I am Ivan the piano player," he replied, rising from his seat. He extended his arms toward the soldier. Ivan had no hands! Just bare stumps. Someone must have cut them off, right at the wrists.
"You're a freak!"
"No I am cursed, cursed from my hands and my music, I am cursed to take another's hands and pass the curse on to their poor soul." Suddenly the dagger rose into the air. It flew at the soldier, right at his head. He dodged the dagger and it stuck in the wall.
"I'll end your curse," the soldier said taking out his gun. He aimed the gun as Ivan came at him. Then he fired, right through Ivan, right through the window and into the forest.
"Heh, heh, heh, I am not alive."
Out of fright the soldier dropped his gun. "Y-y-y you're a ghost," he gulped.
"No," Ivan replied,"a phantom."
From out of nowhere the soldier's sword fell out of its sheath. He was unable to react and the sword sliced through his left hand. Screaming in pain with blood covering his face and clothes, he didn't notice the sword coming back around until his right hand was lying in a pool of blood on the floor. He went unconscious.
When the soldier awoke he was wearing the robe. He got-up from the cold ground and read the piece of paper: this is THE END.