HSSC--The Arm, page 1

The continuous chirping of crickets and tree toads was lulling him into a trance; he was sinking closer and closer to sleep. He could no longer feel the numbing cool breeze whisking between the tall pines. Or the uncomfortable bed of dried pine needles that he laid upon. Or smell the beautiful fragrance of pine burning slowly in the small campfire he had built not too long ago. Even the throbbing pain in his right arm faded away.
"Ah sleep," he murmured incoherently "you are my only true friend."
He dreamt the same dream that he had been having for years. A beach on no particular island, Warm balmy air, Ocean mist spraying over his half naked body, toes dug slightly into the smooth sand with the texture of talcum powder. Holding the hand of a beautiful woman that he had never met before. This was his personal heaven, untouched by the evils of the world.
He was pulled back to reality rather abruptly when he felt something drip heavily onto his sweat-greased brow. His eyes opened wide expecting to see a wild animal hovering over top of him, salivating in anticipation for a taste of human flesh. He sighed deeply and relaxed when he saw that there was no such sight to behold.
He closed his sleep-craved eyes again, hoping that she was still waiting for him to return to the island.
He felt another drop, then another. He took a deep breath and prayed that it would not rain. Another drop landed on his chapped upper lip. He stuck out his tongue and tasted the warm drop. It had a distinct coppery flavor. Almost like blood. He opened his eyes again and quickly brushed the drops away from his forehead with his left hand.
"It is blood!" he exclaimed out loud as he glared at the dark streak across his palm.
He looked past his hand and into the trees. He scanned each branch above him to see if he could find the source of the blood. And sure enough, he saw it.
It was a about a foot and a half long, flesh coloured with four fingers and an opposable thumb, all of which were gripping tightly to the branch of a tree.
He screamed in shock at the realization that it was an arm� A human's right arm� His right arm.
He quickly scrambled to his feet and backed away from under the severed limb.
"Leave me alone!" he yelled, "What is it you want from me?"
No answer came.
"I should have hacked you into a million pieces when I had a chance." He screamed coarsely at the arm.
Without fear, He moved directly under the arm, which was about four feet over head. He thought that if he took a running jump, he'd be able to grab it,
He backed away, giving himself enough room to get a good run. He knew that he was not in the best shape. And that he probably couldn�t muster up enough strength to jump that high. But he had to try. His life depended on it.
He ran, as fast as his tired and worn body would let him. The loss of blood didn�t seem to slow him down, he was fueled on adrenaline.
His right leg hurt from the start of his short sprint, but he couldn't quit. He had to rid himself of the evil arm. He ran the twenty-five feet, which seemed to take forever; every breath he took burned his lungs. When he met his mark, he leapt, high into the air, and with his left arm, he reached out toward the severed limb and gripped as tightly as he could.
He expected the right arm to release its grip on the branch right away but it did not. After he stopped swinging, he looked up to make sure it was in fact the arm he grabbed. It was.
"Let go you son of a bitch!" he said angrily to the arm. But the right arm ignored him.
As he hung there, he had visions of blindfolded Mexican children, running out into the clearing where he hung. Each of them holding a long wooden pole, trying to strike him in just the right spot in hopes that his innards would sprinkle over the joyous mob. He could almost hear their childish laughter.
Blood continued to drip from the raw meaty end of the arm. Most of the droplets landed in his mouth. The crude taste roused him from his delusion.
How he hated the taste of blood. He almost threw up violently after he gnawed his cursed arm off hours before.
The arm suddenly let go of the branch. He landed back down on his bed of pine needles with a loud thud. The arm landing beside him. He quickly scooped up the arm and began to pound it against a jagged rock.
"Why can't you leave me alone?" he yelled at it. "is my Death the only thing that will satisfy you?�
"Yes!" the arm said, using sign language as his voice.
The man sat puzzled for a moment. He understood what the arm said, even though he had never learned the communication method that deaf people used. The arm took this opportunity to escape. The arm pinched the man's wrist with its long clammy fingers. He yelled in pain as he threw the arm towards the flames of the fire pit. He missed it completely.
He tried to stand, but quickly fell back down into the pine needles. His left pant leg was empty below the knee.
"Damn!" he said as he saw his wooden leg laying a few feet away from him. Without warning, the arm quickly scuttled over to the wooden leg, picked it up and flung it into the fire. It burned to ash in a matter of seconds.
He looked over to the arm, which was now standing on its bloody end.
Fear over came him as he stared at it. He trembled slightly at the thought of being finished off by a piece of his own body. Just like the time his severed left foot tried to kick and stomp him to death. He thanked his lucky stars that his precious nail gun was within arms reach. A desperate tear streamed down his left cheek because he knew his nail gun was locked up in his garage.
"Does a man, who is alone in the deep forest make a sound as he is being strangled to death?" The arm asked in sign language.
"Stay away from me!" He yelled, trying to back away from the Arm.
"I guess we'll find out." the arm signed.
The arm lunged at the man's throat.
Silence...

regards
seekerof

[Edited on 24-10-2003 by Seekerof]