*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/554705-The-Gnarled-Hand
Rated: ASR · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #554705
Child's nighttime fears based in reality.
The gnarled hand was illuminated by a brief flash of lightening as it tapped at his window. Charles awoke not so much from the tapping as the from the peal of thunder that followed. Jerking awake, Charles heard the moaning sound of wind being torn through the oak trees outside his window. Quickly looking about the room, he saw nothing out of place but the shadows on the wall did look different and more scary than usual…perhaps because of the storm.

His father had told him many times that there were no monsters but the imagination of a 7 year old can play tricks sometimes and the fear of the unknown in the dark of night could be very real. Charles was no braver than the next child of his age but he remembered his father’s words and tried to return to sleep.

Just as he dozed off, sounds came from the window…tap, tap…tap, tap. Jumping out of bed, Charles ran for his parent’s bedroom. “Father, father…there’s something in my room!” Charles father was startled awake. “What is it Charlie?”, he sleepily replied. “There’s something in my room”, exclaimed Charles. “Oh, Charlie…how many times have we been over this”, mumbled Charles’ father. Switching on the bedside lamp, Charles’ father went to his son’s room turning lights on as he went.

In Charles’ bedroom, everything was safe and secure. “Charlie…how many times have I told you…there’s no such thing as monsters?” The ritual of looking in closets and under the bed had turned up nothing as expected. “See Charlie…there’s nothing to be afraid of…now please, get back in your bed and go to sleep. I’ve got an early day tomorrow and I’m really tired.” Charlie got back in bed and pulled the covers up close as his father turned out the lights.

Within less than a minute the shadows seemed more ominous than before. “What if he missed something”, thought Charles. The wind shook the panes in the glass as the storm increased. Charles, startled as before, stared at the window but saw nothing. The doorway was a vulnerable place too…what if it came from there? Visions of murderers and dead bodies dripping with blood filled his head. He wanted to run, to scream but he held it back and cautioned himself…”there are no monsters…there are no monsters.”

What if…just what if…they were somehow under the bed? If his hand strayed too close to the edge, might they grab him…drag him into some secret monster world beneath the bed? What would happen then? Would he ever see his parents again? Were they even safe in their bed? Were they already dead? If he called out, would they come? The tapping started at the window again…tap, tap….tap, tap. It’s trying to come in through the window thought Charles. Tap, tap…tap, tap. The tortured wind shrieked as it attacked the bedroom seeking escape from the storm.

Just then the lightening flashed and he clearly saw it…the gnarled hand grasped a butcher knife and was trying to open the window latch with it. “Father!! Father!!”, Charles screamed running from the bedroom. “Charles…what is it?”, called out his father. Charles ran into the safety of his fathers arms shaking with fear. “Charlie, Charlie…calm down…what is it?” “Father…there’s a man trying to break into my bedroom”, cried Charles. “A man?…”. Charles father quickly walked to the bedroom and looked out the rain-streaked window. He stood there for long moments but finally turned to Charles and pronounced the dreaded words, “I’m sorry but there’s just nothing out there, buddy.”

“Please, please, Father…look again…I saw him…I saw a man out there…he was at my window!!” Charlie’s father wore a patronizing look as he pulled Charles close and told him, “I’ll never let anything happen to you buddy…never.” Tears filled Charles eyes as he realized his father was about to put him back to bed. “Please father, I’m not seeing things…there really was someone out there…please, please don’t let him get me!!” Charles father led him to the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. He looked so small lying there, so defenseless. “I’ll just leave your light on for a little while and I’ll be right in my bed. If you need me, just call out.” “Please father”, begged the little boy but his father was already leaving the room.

Feeling deserted, Charles lay crying, scared out of his wits. Through his tears, he kept a vigilant watch on the window and trembled. The light being on helped but he knew it was just a matter of time until the would-be killer made another attempt…just a matter of time. Fear completely consumed him and his stomach ached from being knotted. There was a rattle at the window but he could see no one. Staring at the window with every nerve, every atom of his body, Charles just wished it would be over. Let the thing come get him even, but please, please, PLEASE… just let it all be over with.

Seconds passed like millennia. But then as the storm seemed to die down, the window began to rise ever so slowly…ever so quietly. Extreme terror he had never known before filled Charles. He felt crushed under his covers, frozen in place. Panic flowed over him like a roaring river. The movement of the window stopped!!…Charles could hear his heart pounding, his breath coming in small gasps. He looked around the room for something to defend himself with, feeling desperate as he knew that the time had come. Death was imminent…

The window began to creep up again, silently, as with a life of its own. However in the crack left by the opening window, Charles could see the outline of the gnarly hand. Evil flowed into the room. Quicker now, the window started to slide upward…the man would be upon him any moment. His leering face was coming into view…starving, putrid yellowish eyes streaked with red, a cancer of a nose, rotted, stained teeth that were missing several of their brothers. The evil one reached through the window, water dripping hideously from the contorted tip of the gnarled hand.

As if it were orchestrated, the sound and flash of a gun cut through the storm and the intruder jerked sideways, falling from the window. Charles leaped from his bed and cringed in the corner by his bedstand, tears streaming down his face. His father’s face appeared outside the window and he raised the window to where Charles could join him. Charles ran joyfully to his father who hugged him tightly saying, “I’ll never let anything happen to you buddy…Never.”



© Copyright 2002 diggle12 (diggle12 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/554705-The-Gnarled-Hand