The Fingertips Project: Something Grabbed Ahold of My Hand

I don’t know what it was. It was just an empty grasp and yet it grabbed me and held on tight and would not let go no matter what I did or how I screamed or shrieked. It held on tighter and tighter and it began to hurt and I swear I could even see indentations where fingernails were digging into the flesh and causing blood to begin to seep through the broken skin around imprints of heavy pressure, but there was nothing there to cause it. At least not to the naked eye, or perhaps even the non-nude one. I don’t even know how to have non-naked eyes, but the strangest thing was that I couldn’t feel any other presence around me or anything. The only other thing I could feel was the thing on my hand. I even tried waving my other hand around where it felt like the grabbing would be coming from but nothing. The odd thing was that the direction of the indentations made it look like it was coming from something standing exactly where I was, but again, there was nothing to make me think anything WAS there. I exhaled. Nothing. I tried to move but I couldn’t. My legs felt not like they were weighted, but rather that they were exactly where they were supposed to be and had no desire to move regardless of whatever pressure my brain could exert on them or even try to rationalize with them or even attempt to bribe them. Although, admittedly, I do not know what legs would accept as a bribe, as I don’t even know if they have wants or needs — aside, apparently, from wanting to remain where they stood. I tried to lean forward or backward, in hopes that I could perhaps fall over and crawl away without the help of my legs. I wobbled back and forth, trying to throw myself over and eventually I succeeded. My stubborn legs stiffly fell over and my body attempted to crumple though my hand prevented me from my goal. I laid on the ground with one hand raised. My plan didn’t work — my free arm wasn’t strong enough to pull my body away or out of the mysterious grip, and my legs dug in and acted not even as dead weight, but a weight actively working against me — and the strange thing is that it did NOT feel at all like they were being held or in anyway restrained from an outside force. They were acting on their own volition, and had it not been for the panic setting in, I would have been surprised to learn that my legs HAD their own volition at all. At the time, however, I was too busy being terrified as to what was going to happen to me. And looking back, I wish I could still be terrified, but that ability has been completely sapped from me.

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