Hand Bones: A partially true gothic tale

Just for fun, here's a 3WW story for Halloween. The words are reckless, heartache and jangle.


It dawned upon me one afternoon that a healthy evening soup would be preferable to a common meal and I pursued this venture which required the use of a ham bone.

It wasn’t long before I attempted to procure such a bone from the local establishment which sells groceries and other items of necessity. Having no luck in my search of the butcher’s shelves I stopped a young gentleman who clearly was the butcher’s apprentice and inquired whether the store had available any ham bones.

But the young man misunderstood me, it appeared, and repeated my question with a frightening alteration: “Hand bones?”

He asked in a such manner that would indicate it was common practice for patrons to seek such a grotesque item.

(Now we diverge into the fantastical part of the tale.)

I considered his question carefully. Should I pretend that he in fact misunderstood me and repeat my original request? But curiosity overcame me and I could not resist the temptation of viewing what he might produce.

Recklessly I nodded and agreed that I was, in fact, searching for hand bones.
He looked carefully about him to ensure no one witnessed our exchange, leaned close and whispered, “Come with me.”

I followed the young man through a pair of swinging doors that presumably led to the anterior of the cavernous establishment. There was little indication at that moment the extent of the horror I would witness but the jangle of his keys in the lock of a mysterious metal door caused me irrational heartache. My despair compounded as he swung open the door revealing a dingy stairwell lit by a single weak bulb.

To be continued…