Prompt: Begin a story describing only two hands. Use the physical characteristics of the hands, as well as any relevant activity or movement, gesture, fidgeting, and so on, to reveal who the hands belong to.
photo by MogieG123
He played the piano. Or at least I assume he did.
Slender fingers held his wine glass lightly and without thought. I watched those hands, hypnotized by their choreographed dance as they sauntered from knife to fork and back again.
Those hands held the end of my noose. And he didn't even know it. Fingers flickering like the moon on a disturbed pond. Pale. I couldn't hear his words.
How could he not play piano? With hands like those... They lingered on the rest.
He signed the words. Fun. A dismissive wave. While it lasted. Que sara. A mimicry of cursive and fatalism. His face faded like dull scenery painted on flat canvas.
His hands played my death. Shakespearean in that they refused to let me die. Illustrating the poison. The dagger.
Then the curtain fell. Check please. He slipped those hands into pockets.
So this one was a bit more poetic than my previous prose. Any thoughts?
Don't forget to check out ClaudiaBookwright's very different response to this prompt here.
Copyright to Grace Wagner 2013