Touch

Both of my hands gripped the others wrist tight so I would not fall. My mouth gaped slightly and a weight pulled my face away from the top of my head opening my eyes large and round. I lifted my head brought my hand to my face. There was defiantly a warmth. I could feel myself. I took my hands curled into that ball again gripped my wrists. I could feel that too. A pressure wrapped around each wrist and a pressure pushing on each hand.

This was never there before. It could not have been I would have noticed before. I touched my cheek where the liquid left its make it was still sticky. When I touched it before it felt slippery and wet. I could not help thinking how something like that could come from me. There are now tiny drops of something falling through the nothing. How though could I produce that and now I can feel myself? How could nothing produce something? It was illogical. Impossible.

There was something else there other than the wet now there was something beneath it. It was soft and smooth. The soft and smooth part could feel too it felt like nothing I have felt before. It was not a pain though it was gentle as I moves wiping the wet off of my face before fully realizing what was just there.

I pressed my hands together they were not smooth like they seemed before, yet they were not rough either. It was like a complex tangle of hills and valleys spiraling across the surface. Some were round and concentric and others were way and parallel they were very thin and hard to make out. There was also a few much thicker crease running through my hands. I moved away from the palm and up my fingers. I knew I had fingers but never thought they were so long. Five of them I counted. Five on each hand, four of them were long on the end and one was further down and stubby. All of my fingers however, had the same set of creases. The tangle of lines unraveled up each finger and ended in an intricate whorl.

I could feel each hand move as I wanted it to, my fingers bend or flip my wrist over. My fingers were long and slender until halfway up there was a hard knobby section. On the topside of my hand it was hard and round and on the inside there was a neat crease folded into my hand. Curling my fingers around one another I could tell that that is where my fingers bend. Three places were these knobs I counted on the way up my finger.

My hands were warm and defined. They felt as real as the door did. Or would that be surreal. When I pressed on my surface it squished inward and was soft. All that I felt was a pressure, no pain despite the apparent deformity. It was as if the surface was loose and not very well attached. I moved my hand back and forth being the layers with it. Wiggling it back and forth, it did not seem to get any looser. Perhaps it could come off.

I tried first using the second, not the longest, finger along with the smallest thinnest finger on the opposite side of my hand. If I could pick at the surface layer maybe I could peel it right off.  At least it was something to get my mind off of that door. Something.

I was able to grip a minute segment of the materials between the two fingers, though the position was rather uncomfortable. I could feel that I caught myself by the tension pulling across the outer layer. I tried to remove the layer by pulling it away from the back of my hand, but before much pressure could be applied the bit of matter weaseled its way out. The short scrawny finger was too weak and frail to hang on.

It was obvious that there has been a change and that something was wrapped around me. It was strong and secure but it made me feel caged inside something. My mind did not want to roam away. It felt as if a messy layer of flesh was sloughed on around my body.

The small finger was not strong enough to pull the restrictive layer off of me; the short stubby finger located just below the second finger seemed to be in a better position to grasp it. I used that pair of fingers to try again. When I lifted it from the surface I could feel I had a better grip. I pulled it away but it would not separate so I squeezed it harder between my fingers. As I pulled more there was a sharp pain that forced me to let go. It felt like a quick pinch by something thin and sharp.

I slid my hands up my fingers feeling the ridges and whorls again up to the top. Around the tip to the other side the softness was gone and the waves were gone. There was a sharp edge protruding from my finger. The edge was very thin like a flat slate running down the tip of the top of my finger. The sense of touch there was not the same as elsewhere else. It was muted and muffled because it would not give in to the pressures put on it. Only the pressure was felt, nothing more than that. But these hard things were useful they could grip and pinch small amounts and they were sharp. The layer could not be pulled away it hurt to try too. But perhaps with the help of the flat slates it could be removed some other way. Cut and scratched away from the rest of me piece by piece.