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The Cursed Hand

A Short Story To Be Continued

By Mel E. FurnishPublished 3 years ago Updated 2 years ago 4 min read
The Cursed Hand
Photo by Katherine Kromberg on Unsplash

*To listen and read along, play the narration video*

Laughing followed by a clashing of ancient swords erupted between two boys. In the blink of an eye, a blood-curdling snap of a boy's sword had sliced off the other's hand. The rich boy, Demonic, fell to his knees, crying as he grasped his gushing arm. The ancient sword the poor boy, Vigore, held began to glow. Gradually, the severed hand withered.

Vigore slowly turned to see his friend begin to grow old. From where his arm had been slashed, his body started to decay. Demonic had begun to transform into a discolored skeleton. Vigore's eyes widened in utter terror. He swiftly turned, fleeing the shed. He tripped over the detached hand. It rapidly grasped his ankle, startling him. He thrashed violently, breaking off one of the fingers. The hand soared into the shadows. Demonic's shrieks of sheer agony roared as his skin peeled off his shattering bones.

Demonic’s screams haunted Vigore’s thoughts. He stumbled through the undergrowth of a nearby forest as his heart raced. “What have I done? What am I supposed to do now?"

Abruptly, an overwhelming weight forced him to the ground; its massive furry paws suffocated his chest as it towered over him. Vigore’s lungs burned for air as he struggled to get a solid grip on the ancient weapon. The beast’s broad muzzle peered out from the shadows as it leaned in close, its jaws parted as it snarled, baring its four sharp fangs as its menacing, bloodthirsty amber glare pierced him.

Dark and light brown fur shrouded the creature’s stout, lithe body. With every growl, the beast curled and uncurled its razor-sharp, scorpion-like tail. Vigore rapidly yelled with all his might as he shoved the blade into the beast’s gut. Its strange scaly hind legs scurried back as it recoiled from Vigore. The cursed wound quickly repeated its lethal killing process. The creature shrieked from sheer agony as its body turned frail and soon crumbled to dust.

Vigore groaned as he rolled over, scanning the surroundings frantically. He held the ancient sword in his grip tight, bracing for another attack.

“Wow, I must say, I’m impressed, kid,” declared a smooth man’s voice. Vigore snapped his attention around to see a man in a black suit staring at him. His eyes rolled as the boy remained frozen in fear. “You have nothing to fear, boy,” he chuckled. The stranger had a clean-cut face with short black hair and brown eyes.

Vigore slowly lifted the cursed blade as he locked his gaze on the strange man. "Who are you?" He demanded.

"You can call me Luke," he paused as he fished a strange device out of his inside suit pocket. "Your time to be released has come. You passed your tests and the others believe you're ready."

"Wait, what?" Vigore asked.

Luke sighed. "I don't have time to explain, so I'll show you instead." Abruptly, Luke raised the device and pulled the trigger. A shimmering laser erupted from the barrel of the blue glowing device and pierced Vigore's neck. He shrieked as the strange substance seeped into his skin and soon encased his flesh in sapphire brilliance.

Vigore gasped as he witnessed his body starting to fade. "What's happening?" he grilled. Vigore snapped his glare toward Luke just before he was completely gone.

"See you on the other side," Luke grumbled. A flash of azure light swallowed Luke and Vigore whole as their bodies vanished from the forest clearing.




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I started this fiction short story a few years ago and published an excerpt of it to a flash fiction short story contest. I planned on releasing the full story a while back, but I focused on other projects, so here is the rest and I'll publish more soon!


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About the Creator

Mel E. Furnish

I'm a self-published author, raised on a family farm in Indiana.

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