Hands
12 Apr 2020Today’s prompt: “Write a love scene from the point of view of your hands.”
“Hey big guy,” a young man’s voice says huskily. A smile erupts over the face of the guard who’s been watching over you. The rope chafes at your wrists.
You’re suspended from the ceiling. Your hands are bound above your head, and your entire weight pulls on them.
“It’s good to see you, Eric,” the guard says, the spear relaxing in his hand. He sniffs the air. “Is that…”
“Kung pao chicken, from the Golden Chimera,” Eric says.
You’re starting to lose feeling in the index finger of your right hand.
“You’re too good to me,” the guard says. “You didn’t have to come to work to bring me dinner.”
“How else am I going to get to see you? You’ve been pulling doubles all week.”
You try to wiggle your finger to see if you can bring life back into it. You can barely move it.
“Lotta rebels getting captured,” the guard says. “The emperor wants to witness all their deaths personally, but he’s a busy guy.”
“I hope there’s a respite in the war soon,” Eric says. “You’re always so tired when you get home.”
The guard’s left arm envelops Eric’s shoulders and pulls him in close for a kiss. When their mouths finally part, the guard tilts his forehead in toward Eric’s and looks directly into his eyes.
“I promise you,” he says. “When all this is over. You and I are going out on the town.”
You shift your weight and a shock of pain travels up your left forearm and into your left palm.
A giddy smile lights up Eric’s face. The guard continues. “We’re going to the Crooked Ledge for drinks. We’re going dancing at the Painted Pony. We’re taking an ostrich cart to East Side Park, and we’ll walk among the wisteria trees.”
“An ostrich cart ride! Those are so expensive!”
“And I’m pulling a lot of time and a half.”
The throbbing in your left arm and hand have subsided a bit, but now you notice the scratch of the rope digging into the heel of your left hand.
Eric and the guard kiss again, lightly this time, and Eric rummages in the bag of Chinese food. They sit and eat their kung pao chicken. After they finish eating, they sit together for a while, the guard’s arm around Eric, Eric’s head resting on the guard’s shoulder.
The door opens and the guard immediately stands to attention, spear upright, expression stoic. Eric quietly gathers the food containers.
“Carson! The emperor is ready. Bring the prisoner to the execution chamber.”
Eric leaves with the trash. Carson unties the other end of the rope and lowers you from the ceiling. Your hands and the muscles in your arms experience a slight release from agony before being pinned behind your back, and you are marched up to meet the emperor and your executioner.