Hands by Vi.

She sat staring at the skin of her hands. Her eyes traced the many lines, imagining the skin to be the brown, scorched earth of deserts, thirsty for life.

The wrinkled skin gathered above her enlarged knuckles, reminding her of dried fruit.

She continued examining her hands, wondering how the finiteness of life had come to suddenly feel so tangible.

Her veins somehow looked foreign. Her age had caused her veins to become like strange, throbbing, river-like threads of yarn, sewn to her flesh, invading her hands.

She rubbed the underside of her index finger against the rough surface of her thumb. Years of constant chewing and biting at hang nails left both her thumbs scaled with stubborn, pink, thickened skin.

Her fingernails were yellowed. Underneath the tips lay dust and dirt of weeks past.

She once read in a book that soil and dirt was just decomposed matter, much of which used to be animals and plants. It fascinated her that the things that sustained humans depended on soil. Trees. Vegetables. Fruits. Grass animals eat. Animals that we in turn eat.

In a way, she thought, death sprung life.

She thought to herself: when my body decomposes, it will also become dirt. Eventually.

It somehow comforted her.

She was collecting life in those hands.

Comments

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Galen over 14 years ago

@anton.gully Sorry you're not a fan of the old design. Hopefully the new is more to your liking.

anton.gully over 14 years ago

Great story!

Horrible, ugly, unfriendly, pastel-shaded POS website!

But, to each their own.

I feel like the Pink Panther theme tune should be playing as I hit CONTRIBUTE.

There's a lot of writing talent out there, basically fucked over by hideous websites.

Que sera sera. Gonna hit the button now, I expect a shower of lego.

Vi. (joined almost 15 years ago)

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License

Creative Commons Attribution 3.0

Prompt

Blank Prompt

Freeform prompt. Every Friday, writers face a blank page without any prompt. They write whatever they want in six minutes or less.
Prompt suggested by Galen

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