Hand Bones: The conclusion

Here's the final chapter of "Hand Bones," again written using 3WW words, which are karma, obey and wither. You can see the first installment here and the second here.



Fury distorted the young man’s face but my eyes could not leave the blood-stained cleaver that was clearly destined to become the means of my destruction. He moved toward me and though I felt every ounce of courage wither inside, my body obeyed a higher instinct and I stumbled backwards.

“Hand bones!” the man shrieked. “I want your hand bones!”

Blood from the young man’s severed limb had drained to the edge of the stained chopping block and dripped into a pool on the concrete floor. Unawares, the young man stepped in his own blood and lost his footing; he flailed in a desperate effort but by some miracle or karma or answered prayer the young man fell hard. He could not stop his fall with his injured arm; he was forced to rely on the appendage that held the cleaver, which for him produced the most unfortunate result. The blade cut through the exposed skin of his neck and suddenly his head was no longer connected to his body. The head rolled once, and as though delivering a final message of terror, the young man’s eyes closed.

I did not trust at that moment that his body would not ambulate and continue pursing me. I forced my toe to nudge his; it moved only in the way it should. I watched his chest expectantly for some sign of respiration; indeed, the chest dropped and I stifled a scream before understanding it was only the young man’s last breath expelling through his severed windpipe. Perhaps it was the fright of my imagination but I would swear an oath that I witnessed a dark shadow leave his body.

The stolen cadavers that stood around me like a flesh forest were a silent audience to the horrid scene as the floor grew dark with the young man’s blood. It entered my thoughts that these unfortunates had witnessed endless mayhem in this dark chamber and I understood that this dead man could not be the only accomplice. How such an operation could be perpetuated was beyond my comprehension, though at that moment the shadow, which indeed was real, settled upon me and I began to desire the taste of the young man’s flesh.

So overwhelming was this desire that I grabbed the severed hand the young man had offered to me and brought it to my mouth, consuming the flesh raw until there was nothing left but bones, delicious hand bones. The act brought only temporary relief. In that moment I understood my new purpose and I stooped over the bloodied remains of the butcher’s apprentice, untied the strings of his apron, and donned the uniform of my new, glorious occupation.