This Single Simple Act

You ask me why, my darling? The reason for this is simple. So simple, in fact, that I should not have to explain to you how this came to be. However, for your peace of mind, to remain sane in the eyes of my beloved, I will explain. I would not do something so drastic if it were not absolutely necessary. Absolutely viable. There is reasoning behind this. A well thought out, meticulous reasoning. Not impulse or some form of recklessness as you think, but careful planning that could only have been done by somebody with the brightest mind. A solution that could only be found by somebody observant such as myself.

You see... There is a simple reason for our misfortunes. An explanation to wrap all of our hardships inside of a nicely tied bow. This reason is quite simply staring you right in the face... was staring us all right in the face for years, decades! I would think there could be no other reason. My presentation is far more polished than the average gentlemen.

So what else could cause such misfortune other than the glaring flaw that is my hands?

It is this attention grabbing flaw that takes eyes away from all my other rather flawless features. It is these hands that cause me to be looked upon as if I were a lowly creature rather than somebody of high class. Whenever I see them, my very own heart is stricken with overwhelming revulsion and dismay.

I beg of you, do not give me such a look. Do not purse your lips with worry, do not narrow your eyes at me in disgust. Do not look at me as if I am not sane. There is reasoning behind this. What I am telling you is the truth; these feelings are present within all people. How could you possibly blame me? Or blame others for feeling that way? My hands are sickening. Each finger extends without end in sight. Long, thin, cadaverous fingers that clearly stretch out into three deformed segments. With each segment the finger becoming thinner, reaching the end in a point that makes the skin seem as if it were already part of the nail. The tips hook downwards, as if a hawk's claws were present where flesh should be. Where there were no obstructive bones, there were veins. Veins like centipedes crawling just underneath the surface layer of skin.

They only become worse with use, my dear wife. You know that jam I love? The one I use every morning, every day for every snack. Why, just this morning, as I did every morning, I couldn't help but analyze my hand as I grabbed it. Such a simple task like reaching for a jar is inhibited by these hands. Even an easy task such as this strikes fear into my heart. If you saw it, you would understand. The way these long, bony vulgar fingers extended outwards and hooked the handle of the fridge, as the door creaked open. It repulsed me. Slowly, oh so slowly, I watched each pointed, skeletal worm enclose the jar. They wrapped around its entirety, constricting the glass as veins dominated flesh.

Every time I use these hands I can feel my chest squeeze and tighten. My heart beat quaking the focal point of my substructure, so loud that it pulsated through my ears. So loud that it shook the very foundations of this house. What else was I to do but bite at the tips of what caused me such pain? How else was I to fight back against such evils in even this small feat? How else was I to hide these grotesque features other than inside an orifice inaccessible to the world's gaze?

I do not understand how you have held these foul hands for countless years. Did you not feel their pointed, slim edges cutting into your skin? Did you not feel as if these hands engulfed your own, cutting off the flow of blood to your skin? Squeezing tighter and tighter as your own beautifully rounded hands became cold and clammy? Turning pale with the ever coiling, crushing, menacing clutch of these imprisoning cuffs?

You are making that face again! That one filled with worry, looking my way as if my reasoning has escaped me. It has not, I promise you. There is reasoning behind this. Believe me there is. Can't you see? If it is all I can behold then the same must be true for every man! If I feel such revulsion for my own flesh and bone there is no telling what horrors await the minds of those whose gaze falls upon them! Oh my wife, my dear wife. Don't you find it odd how so many of those around us have rejected me? Do you not find it odd that we, as good people, have been so misfortuned? I am well educated, well spoken, yet for no other reason than a part of me which is beyond control, I am shunned.