Black-finger Friday

100_0910I went to bed last night under the influence of excessive Thanksgiving leftovers and I had the strangest dream…

I was in a mall bustling with shoppers.  I had just purchased the most amazing pair of tan leather ankle boots trimmed with black suede and gold piping when I came across a little shop full of crystals, gifts and and every manner of sparkly trinkets.  In the back near the register, there were a collection of burnished branches mounted on polished stone pedestals.  They ranged in size from 6 inches to 3 feet tall.  The ends of every twig were shaped like thin, graceful, human hands. The tips of the fingers were long, pointed and blackened.

There was an old woman behind the counter, watching me.  “Do you like them?”

“Yes,” I said, “such beautiful sculptures.”

“Oh, they’re not sculptures,” she said. “A friend of mine grows them.”

“Really?  I’ve never heard of such a thing.  What kind of tree grows like this?”

She smiled.  “Not on trees, on his body.  Whenever I need one, I break off his arm.”  She took a book of matches from her pocket, struck one and lit the fingertips of one of the larger branches.  “You can burn them like candles and they last for years.”

I got the hell out of there.

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~ by loretta8 on November 30, 2013.

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