Announcing the winners of our FLASH CONTEST

FIRST-PLACE WINNER

Something Happened

I sever the first two fingers of my left hand on a Tuesday. They fall to the ground at my feet, causing a momentary confusion as I wonder what tree has dropped this odd fruit. Then I see the crescent scar left behind by a fish hook and know that these are my fingers, that they are no longer attached to my body, and that I will surely not be going to piano lessons the next day. This is when I know how much I dislike piano, that the momentary relief at the thought lifts my spirits even though I am bleeding profusely.

I am 9, and it is fall, the woods around me swaying in the wind, dead leaves drifting to the ground as I take off my shirt and wrap my hand. It is a new shirt, and I will surely be in trouble, I think, as the blood overtakes the print design – horses that can’t outrun the beat of my heart. I pick up my fingers, still warm, and squeeze them, feeling the texture of my skin. I’ve held my own hand, made the church steeple and opened it up to see the people, twiddled my thumbs and traced the lines of my palm, but always there was reciprocal feeling, touch to touch.