The
Hand
On a windy, misty, snowy mountain
sit a cabin of wooden logs and tells of the hard work of a family. Jim, the
old, white-haired but not frail father built this two years ago. He commanded
his young child Jimmy who would run to and fro at the speed of the Flash
getting logs. He worked out a lot at his local gym down the mountain. He would
take the tram down. Despite being remote, the family still communicated with
their small town down there. However, they limited themselves to just using the
gym to stay in shape for hunting. While Jimmy was 18, Billy was about 14. He
did work out but not as much as Jimmy, and got tired easily. He mostly sat on
the snow while Jim and Jimmy completed the house. Upon its completion, the
cabin did not have any snow on its roof. That would never be so again.
Inside
the cabin and near the fireplace, watching television is where Jim sought
solace and comfort in his old age. He often reminisced about the many animal
activism conferences he attended. He remembered his many years working for PETA
giving out pamphlets outside Barnes and Noble. “Ahh! The good old days,” he
would tell his children before he began telling them of one of his many feats
of glory working for the animal cause. In all his years, he had not budged on
his worldview that animals should be treated as human are treated. It was what
he felt back then.
Now against his wooded walls near his silver
staticky TV and sun filled fireplace, he counted down his last days. His kids
wondered about the logic of a fireplace in a wooden cabin. He said, “If you do
not take risks, you ain’t livin’.” Jim was right, and there had not been any
problems encountered. His two boys, mostly Jimmy, kept the house up and
running. Billy would often sleep, and watch TV with his father. Their father
did not care, but Jimmy did a little. He would always ask his father, “Why do I
have to do all the work, and Billy just sits there!!??” His father responded as
always, “Work it out amongst yourselves. I am an old man, and I do not have time
for this shit.” His father was not always vulgar but when push came to shove,
he would be vulgar to break up what he saw as childish complaining. Old Jim had
changed since those days back in the auto union. His faith in his activism
began to die overtime. He saw the people’s response to his activism. It was a
negative response he never intended for. During his protests, people would
label them as “PETA freaks.” He did not like being labeled, and felt the pain
of discrimination falling upon him. “I do not know if I should continue to do
this,” he often said to himself. The confusion led him to a place of deep
sorrow. This sorrow led the righteous and vigorous youth to an angry old man.
He decided he was done, and if his kids wanted to be labeled for being active,
they could do that.
To
Jimmy, it was a matter of justice, and he felt that he should be recognized for
his work. He felt his brother should be dealt with by his father because
despite the anger he felt, it was his father who had and continues to provide
for him His brother was uncaring as to the opinion his brother had of him.
Jimmy always wondered if he did not receive that from their father. The
influence of being around their father often made Jimmy wonder about that
possibility. The two boys never had any other siblings, and their mother and
father were divorced at an early age. Their mother saw their father’s anger
coming on as his PETA activism failed him. She could not put up with his rants.
“I do not understand why people do not get it!!!” he would scream at night in
the bathroom as he showered. He often showered at night waking his wife up. His
hours were always running him until late at night. So, he had no other choice
especially since he did not like to sleep without having a good shower. He
could not stand sweat being on his body when he wanted to relax. On a quite normal day, the family got up, and
did their routine. Jim and Billy went for the tube, and Jimmy went for the
vacuum. The boys did not attend school but worked for their father. However,
Jimmy was really the only one working. The two others complained about the
noise but always got over it.
It was 10 am when they heard the knock. It
sounded like a mini earthquake. The vibrations of the knock were felt across
the wall. The chairs Jim and Billy sat on were up against the wall, and their
necks felt those vibrations of the continuous second by second banging on the
door. The vibrations made the two aware of the event. “WHAT’S THAT NOISE,” they
both exclaimed at the same time. The knocking went silent. Their loud anger
caused reactions from Jimmy and the mysterious stranger knocking. So much so
was it felt by the knocker that they continued as before. It continued
perilously in his pursuits in hopes of an answer. It became angrier and angrier
it seemed to the three males as they assumed it was becoming impatient.
Eventually, it broke a whole in the door where its hand became visible to the
others. It was very hairy, and the individual fingers could barely be made out.
The hand moved back outside the hole in the door. The knocking commenced
again.
Jimmy
was the only one concerned. The other two were back watching a football game on
ESPN. Jimmy found this pretty disappointing; that he was the only one taking
this whole crisis seriously. There was a shotgun that lay up against the
fireplace. Jimmy never used it before. His dad was the one who always used it
in case of any problems. However, Jimmy saw that his father was rather
unwilling but not incapable of using it this time around. It was long with a
double gauge and silver paint all across it except for the trigger and ammo. It
was in great condition for sitting near a fireplace that would normally melt
different features of it away. It had not done so in all its time lying up against
the fireplace that melted the boys’ grandfather’s copy of the Mona Lisa. Jimmy
grabbed the gun quickly. He aimed its silvery gun hole at the opening created
by the thing that had been knocking on their door. He shot the first bullet as
the silver pustule came out of the barrel, and flew through it. It was a pretty
quick process.
“OOOWWWROORRR”
was the response of the thing outside. Jim and Billy again chimed in. “WHAT THE
HELL IS GOING ON THIS TIME,” they both exclaimed at the same time. Jimmy tried
to explain what he was doing. They did not hear him out, and immediately upon
his talking went back to watching the game. It was a Detroit Lions v. Chicago Bears,
and Jim grew up in Chicago. So, you had the fandom of the Lions that was still
present in this family despite the Lion’s terrible record, and you had the
older respect for the Bears. After Jim left Chicago, the family moved to
Chicago. Ford had transferred him there, and when he retired, he moved up to
northern Canada with his kids. They did not necessarily want to leave but the
father forced them. They had finished high school but never attended college
because of their location in the mountains and their need to help their father.
His age was making him weaker along with his anger, and he began to ache when
he moved. The boys decided not to make him do too much. However, that only
became Jimmy’s duty after awhile. Jimmy had found it useless to take part in as
the house’s smell grew from the lack of cleaning and the dishes began to pile
up. The house began to smell like rotten eggs, and the dishes started to
accumulate bugs flying around and crawling on the plates. It looked like a
party had begun in the family’s sink.
As
Jimmy continued shooting, the same response would come with the creature going,
“OWWWROOOR,” and the two lazy beings going, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!!???” Upon
his third shot, Jimmy heard someone’s feet banging away on the ground. He was
nervous but took the chance of looking outside the whole created by the thing.
He saw a dark shadow silhouetted against what seemed to be blizzard. It was
running away. Jimmy took one more shot to make sure it would not bother them
again. However, he could not be certain of that happening again. As he plugged
up the hole in the door to prevent snow from coming in, he realized that he was
not alone up here. He would have to be the one to defend his father and his
brother. They themselves were curious of what it was after the game was over
when they all spoke at dinner. However, none of the three men could come to any
conclusion. It baffled them all, and would continue to perplex them for years
to come.
So,
as the years went by, Jimmy sat at the door daily; waiting for the thing to
come back; ready and waiting to protect his house. The others understood what
he was doing but still found him strange. “You know he ain’t comin’ back,” his
father would say. “Why do you continue to do this?” his brother would ask him.
These questions were disheartening to him because all he was trying to do was
guard the house. However, he came to the conclusion that most heroes had to put
up with this stuff. As the years went on, Jimmy sat there daily. It became his
mission; his quest; his glory. It became his duty. He sat there, and did not
care if he ever gained recognition for protecting his family. He did not care
about his father and brother’s attitudes towards his choice to do so. He was
protecting his family, and that was enough solace and comfort he sought in his
choice.
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