An unthemed blog of thoughts and mutterings. Join me for a few mutterings of your own.
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"I gotta hand it to you,” Simon said, "You're the first spy who penetrated our defenses."
"An unprecedented act of heroine-ism," Garrett added. They all laughed. Willie nodded.
"I'm not a spy. I'm a camper. I was just curious."
"More than curious," Glenn said. "Downright nosy."
"Now, Glenn," Buck said, "be polite. Dana is company."
"Unwanted company," Glenn snorted, "Unwanted and unwelcome."
Willie nodded. The others all nodded along with him. Everyone but Buck.
"Put your hands on the table, Dana, palms down," Buck said. Dana did as she was told.
She looked down at her hands. They were not typical women's hands. They were tan and scratched, covered with cuts, bruises and reddened bumps of poison ivy, some of them scratched open and weeping. Dana liked taking pictures of wildflowers and was always crawling around in the bushes. She remembered an advertisement for some dish detergent, Dove maybe, or was it Palmolive, where a mother and daughter laid their smooth, lily-white hands next to each other. Their perfect unblemished hands. Dana's hands did not pass muster.
Buck placed his hands on the table beside Dana's. Buck clearly worked with his hands. They were thick and strong, tanned, scarred, and had as many cuts as Dana's. Grime embedded the cracks in his skin. It appeared as if Buck had tried to scrub it off and mostly failed.
The other men stared. Then Willie placed his hands on the table. They looked much like Buck's. Garrett followed suit. His hands were similar, except Buck's fingers were longer. Simon laid his hands down. The hands all nearly matched. They were sturdy, battered and dirty.
Everyone turned to look at Glenn. He stared at Dana. His eyes were black, narrowed, and full of hatred.
1)This is part 5 of Chapter 1 of my novel hopeful, Discovery at Little Hog Island, in Serial form.
2)The image, digitally painted by me on Artrage, was partly after a Gatherer Magic Artcard which can be viewed here