The Hand

Mathias Braselmire was the middle child in a large family. He had four older sisters and four younger sisters and like most good brothers he took protecting them very seriously. That's what he was doing presently.

His two oldest sisters had come to him in the early evening hours, needing his help. The second oldest, Lavender, had killed someone. Not in the way you might be thinking. See, the Braselmire sisters were all witches and on this particular evening, Lavender had lost control of her magic when the man she loved had confessed he was marrying another. He had gone further as to imply that Lavender was not worthy of him.

As if. Thought Mathias as he brought the shovel down again into the damp earth. He had sent the two eldest sisters with the wagon to retrieve the body. He would have gone himself but time was of the essence and felt he would be faster at the digging. Plus, it would give him time to figure out a plan.

Micheal had been the son of a well known minister in town and he would be missed soon. Lavender was fairly sure that he had not told anyone he was meeting her. So, now it was up to him to construct a story of what happened to him that would prevent any follow up questions or investigations.

He had gotten as far as planning to bury him behind the pig pen where the ground was soft and moist. Decay would be fast and it would not be so obvious that the earth had been disturbed, but he would be missed soon if he was not already and they would have to produce something to throw them off the scent of his sister. She had not meant to harm Micheal, she had simply lost control in her devastation. He would not see her punished for that and as far as he was concerned the louse got what he deserved.

Slowly, as he dug deeper and deeper and plan began to take shape in his mind and when the wagon carrying his sisters and the preacher son's corpse rounded the corner he knew what was to be done. As they slowed the Clydesdale to a stop in front of him, he looked at them both. Lavender looked stricken and shaken but Rose looked determined. They were both muddy and their clothes were torn. They had obviously hurried.

Mathias hoisted himself out of the hole and walked over to them. He embraced Lavender and kissed the top of her head.

"No worries Lav. We'll be done with this soon."

"We better hurry." Said Rose looking over the edge of the wagon. "He's getting stiff and he won't be any easier to bury the longer we wait."

Lavender began to sob quietly. Mathias pulled away and held her shoulders.

"Now listen, no more of that. Rose and I will take care of it. You can help by going to find some brown packing paper and some twine, and something to write a note with. Okay?"

She nodded and tried to dry her eyes.

"I'll be right back." She muttered and then set off for the house.

After she was out of earshot, Rose asked.

"What are we going to do? Once we have the body buried…"

"Later." Said Mathias. "First let's get him in the hole."

"Right." Said Rose with a curt nod.

They climbed into the wagon. Mathias hoisted him up under the arms and Rose grabbed his legs. They struggled for a few moments and then were able to step down onto the wet earth. It was easier going from there.

"This reminds me of that time you killed that huge buck and we had to bring him down from the mountains." Said Rose and they both laughed a little through their strain.

After they had tossed him in the hole, Mathias said, "Wait here, I'll be right back." and disappeared into the barn.

Rose looked down at Michael's body. "Slime ball." she muttered to him and spat into the grave.

Mathias reappeared a moment later carrying a saw. He hopped into the grave, one foot on either side of the body and grabbed one of the hands. His left one, which bore the ring he had inherited from his father with a large silver cross embossed on a dark opal.

"What are you doing?" Asked Rose curiously.

"I'm throwing his family off the scent."

"Ah yes, the ole severed hand ruse."

"Ha. Ha." Said Mathias sarcastically.

After much effort, he climbed out carrying the appendage. He was sweatier and dirtier than ever and was panting slightly. He brandished the hand at Rose.

"This is Lavender's ticket to freedom."

Rose looked skeptical. "I'm listening."

"This horse's ass is a minister's son, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"Well, that means they are religious, which means they are superstitious, which means if we can convince them something supernatural happened to their son, they are unlikely to look for any worldly explanations."

"Yes, but if you hadn't noticed, people in this town tend to associate us with the supernatural. Won't we be asking for trouble."

"I thought about that, but strange things happen here all the time." He gave Rose a meaningful look and they smiled a little at each other. "And even when it is our fault, they can never pin it on us. Mom and dad are too well-to-do. If the town turns to us, they will quash it quickly, and they won't even have to lie, because as far as they will know, it's the truth."

"Hmmm...well, I have reservations but I also have no other plans so...what the hell." Said Rose, throwing up her hands.

Just then Lavender rounded the corner of the pig pen.

"Head her off and get those materials from her. I'll tell you what to write and then you can go comfort her and leave the rest to me." Mathias whispered.

Rose nodded and walked over to her sister. After she had sent her inside to start some hot tea, she and her brother began to execute their plan.

The next morning, upon his return from searching the town and countryside for his son. The Minister found a small package wrapped in brown paper on his doorstep. There was a note attached that read:

Preacher man, preacher man though you toil, your seed has ended up in the soil. The devil's come and dragged him down as retribution upon your righteous town. Hypocrisy, prejudice and strife has cost you the pride of your eldest son's life.

His hands shook as he tore open the package. Just then the door opened as his wife came to see what kept him. She let out a quiet scream as the bloody stump of their son's hand landed with a thud on their doorstep.