Hands
My first post~ =]
Hands
creative non-fiction|239 words|non-challenge
Title: Hands.
239 words.
A/N: this was an activity from another site, so I decided to use my friend as a guinea pig. XD This is unbeta’d and concrit is amazing and nice. I hope you enjoy it.
They’re white, with barely there nails connected to short fingers and even shorter arms. They have problems reaching many things, her hands.
Yet, I’ve seen them accomplish many things too.
They’ve curled into a fist, sometimes hitting, sometimes not. Her palms have left a resounding smack, turning parts of my funnycolored brown skin red, leaving it stinging more with hurt feelings and a bruised ego than actual pain. They’ve taken many things and given twice as many. They have gripped so tightly that I thought my tiny wrist would break, high-five’d, flipped people off…and pulled me into a hug when I was so desperate for one that I didn’t know it.
I wonder…
Of all the people that my hands have felt, held onto, fought against, fought for, fought with, and grabbedshooksmacked with no other reason than to cause pain…How have I affected them?
And their hands…
How have the affected me?
We all hold more secrets that Japan, I suppose.
I pick up my phone and ask, “What thing would you make sure to have in your hand if you went to Japan?”
She replies, “ A Japanese to English voice translator.”
I laugh, texting ‘Hahaha’ back, because I never thought of that. That’s the pro of having friends…
“What about you?”
“A camera fo’ sho’~ For all the sexy men over there.”
“Haha…So predictable.”
I grinned, because for once, I didn’t mind being called that at all.
Hands
creative non-fiction|239 words|non-challenge
Title: Hands.
239 words.
A/N: this was an activity from another site, so I decided to use my friend as a guinea pig. XD This is unbeta’d and concrit is amazing and nice. I hope you enjoy it.
They’re white, with barely there nails connected to short fingers and even shorter arms. They have problems reaching many things, her hands.
Yet, I’ve seen them accomplish many things too.
They’ve curled into a fist, sometimes hitting, sometimes not. Her palms have left a resounding smack, turning parts of my funnycolored brown skin red, leaving it stinging more with hurt feelings and a bruised ego than actual pain. They’ve taken many things and given twice as many. They have gripped so tightly that I thought my tiny wrist would break, high-five’d, flipped people off…and pulled me into a hug when I was so desperate for one that I didn’t know it.
I wonder…
Of all the people that my hands have felt, held onto, fought against, fought for, fought with, and grabbedshooksmacked with no other reason than to cause pain…How have I affected them?
And their hands…
How have the affected me?
We all hold more secrets that Japan, I suppose.
I pick up my phone and ask, “What thing would you make sure to have in your hand if you went to Japan?”
She replies, “ A Japanese to English voice translator.”
I laugh, texting ‘Hahaha’ back, because I never thought of that. That’s the pro of having friends…
“What about you?”
“A camera fo’ sho’~ For all the sexy men over there.”
“Haha…So predictable.”
I grinned, because for once, I didn’t mind being called that at all.