The Hand

Some time ago, when my father was barely older than I am now, he lived in Barcelona, Spain. One of his favorite pastimes was art. This painting, by him, is entitled "The Hand." It was painted in 1980. My dad's strange sense of color stems from his color blindness.

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"The Hand"

It was dark. I couldn't see anything but the stars in sky and no moon was present. I looked down at my hand. Several small figures stood there. They were as confused as I was with looks of bewilderment at this strange landscape they found themselves in. Slowly they began to realize that they were far above the ground and panic began to set in. To quell their shouts and fears I spoke softly to them telling them that they would be all right and to be unafraid. Understandably they were even more frightened when they realized that a giant far greater than any of them was holding them in the palm of his hand.

It was all right though. As time passed their cries of distress gradually subsided as I neither moved nor gave any sign of being hostile. Slowly they started to ask me questions about where they were and who I was. I smiled and told them that I had no idea, but they need not worry as I would not harm them. They began to talk amongst themselves learning each other's names.

Suddenly, I felt something was very wrong. I looked up and around me on the barren landscape that we were on. Nothing seemed out of place, so I decided to take a look around. Then I found it. As a stepped forward, I found myself unable to move my feet. I tripped. At the last moment I lifted up the hand with the Little Ones so as to shield them from the impact of my fall, but there was no impact. As I hit the ground my hand sank into it, cushioning the blow. Strange, I thought, and looked down at my knees and feet. To my horror, I realized that they had melted several inches into the ground.

The Little Ones picked themselves up and once they realized what had happened asked me if I was all right. I told them of my predicament. At first they were suspicious of me again, but when they looked and saw the truth, the suspicion gave way to fear.

Several minutes passed. Tears came to my eyes, now sunken beneath the earth. I was still sinking and soon would not have the strength to keep my hand up. The Little Ones were still safe, but I had lost my ability to breathe some time ago. In the few minutes I had known them, I had become quite fond of the Little Ones, but now it seemed our time together was over. My body began tingling like it was fading away. Suddenly the figures on my hand stopped moving for a second. I felt them begin to sink, but not into the earth as I had. Rather they were falling into my hand! The very hand that sought to save them. In a panic I tried to shake my hand, desperate to stop the process, but I found myself unable to move. They began to climb onto my fingers which thankfully remained whole and solid. But many were already stuck in the mire as I had been.

I begin to black out. I'm sorry my Little Ones, I tried my best to save you.