Long fingers (part 3)

I continued to stare at the avian corpse as my uncle’s hands then fell in front of him, turning them palm up. Still mentally numb, it took me a minute to rationalize what I was looking at. I realized what laid before my eyes were not hideous injuries or normal deformity. Where his fingerprints would have been were instead cavernous, gaping holes in his flesh that were ringed with spiny, milk-white growths.

I was looking at mouths.

Miniature maws that quite literally tore flesh from bone and sucked the life out of a living creature just minutes ago. His smile widened. Without hesitating, I spoke without thinking the first words that entered my mind.

“Are you a fucking circus freak?”

He laughed. A long, hoarse laugh that rang hollow with exhaustion.

“If I was, people would actually want to be around me.”

He then slowly stretched out a hand towards me as if to offer a better look.

“I never sucked my thumbs as a kid.”

My mother came out the back door that moment and charged at him, his spacey smile dropping as she began yelling, asking if he wanted to be carted off by the government or made to be a museum exhibit. His eyes seemed to shift in a peculiar manner, saying nothing as he looked at the ground. My dad came and grabbed me by the back of my neck from behind and led me back inside the house. Try as I might, I couldn’t wrench my head around to see what was happening.

For the first and last time, they drove him to his bus stop, the car engine a dull buzz in the distance. My parents didn’t return until two nights later and they wouldn’t divulge where they had been or what they did. They merely said they “finally got him help.”

I haven’t seen him in years.

My parents never said anything more about him, nor did the rest of my family after that day. Uncle Chet became a non-entity.

Decades later, following the passing of my parents. I finally came back to my childhood home to take stock of their possessions and arrange the estate sale.

Inside the shed, I found a familiar pair of gloves hidden amongst the tools and garden supplies. Compelled, I picked them up to examine them further, something gouging my finger as I did. I dropped them before turning them over with my shoe. Embedded in the cowhide were several small, lamprey-like teeth.

Hey guys! Author here! I wanna thank you guys whoever read my story, it really meant a lot to me! I spend hours thinking for a story line and i wrote it on paper. Then i type it all out in my novel. Please support me throughout this tough journal! :D And lastly, please do not spread any hate comment in the comment section or some inappropriate content! I wish the best luck to you all! Stay safe and always wash your hands!

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