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Word Prompt: Hands

Her fingers grazed the bannister as she slowly placed her toes on the edge of the stair, on the joint where it wouldn’t creak under her weight. She knew she had a few pounds to lose, but nothing that a juice cleanse couldn’t address in a week’s time. She’d start tomorrow.

First she had to locate the low thump coming from upstairs. Its methodical rhythm was out of place in the silent house. It puzzled her.




What could possibly be bumping against the floor. Or side of the house. She couldn’t be sure. In moments like this, she wished she didn’t live alone. She briefly considered phoning a neighbor to come over, but most were out of town for the holiday weekend. She was being silly anyway and letting her imagination get the best of her. It was probably an open shutter knocking against the siding. Or a stranded bird, trapped in the attic and banging against the window to be freed.

Still, she crept silently up the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaks and groans she’d heard her entire life.




The muffled sound was louder with each step she took.



Like the beating of a strong heart. Not her heart though. It pounded with an anxious flutter right then. Unfamiliar noises provoked her array of worries and fears.

Catching a deep breath and holding it in her throat, she climbed the final stair and peered into an empty hallway. Nothing. Taking a cautious step forward, she peeked into the rooms on her left and right. Nothing. She took six quiet steps and glanced in the guest room.

A sad, broken shutter knocked against the window, begging to be fixed.

Releasing her giant breath, she shook off the silly fear and entered the room to inspect the damage. It was an old house. The wood had probably rotted, or rust had eaten through the hinge.

Not too far behind her, a closet door opened quietly, gradually exposing the dark shadow hovering within. From the hollow cavern, two gloved hands stretched forward, reaching ominously for their victim….


About 365 Things to Write About

I'm inspired by almost anything and everything creative - nature, architecture, art, words, music...I like to roam along streets, through foreign countries, and within my mind where the world is full of endless possibilities. I dream of being an idealist, but I've experienced too many harsh realities for that wish to ever be true. Therefore, I look for the hope and the good in small nuances, and I express my thoughts and feelings about the world around me on pages and canvases whenever I can.

One response »

  1. They were bound together, folded and wrapped tight. As the sun faded, not even the growing cold would come between them.
    Despite his being hard worked, callused and worn, they paired beautifully with her dainty, soft and elegant set.
    God given – cutlery, weapons, shovels and lovers – our hands are gifts too often taken for granted.

    This and more at


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