The Hand

It was night and I had been sleeping soundly. Suddenly my heart is beating wildly and my thinking that cold hand so close to my throat. Irrational terror, plain unadulterated TERROR, struck me.

I never ever had the possibility of sudden violent death in my bedroom! --- and I’m having to experience this episode alone! “Oh, dear God, I beg of you! --- Assist me, I plead with you. You alone can save me from whatever this man had conjured up to violently shorten my precious life. I greatly desire to improve/rectify the essential facets of living here on plant Earth.”

The very real possibility had never entered my head that I could be snatched from the side of my beloved spouse sleeping beside me. “Oh save me dear Lord in the small space --– please don’t let me perish from the wicked plans of this unknown assailant.”

My whole life was flashing before me. This ghostly, cold, scary hand was very possibly intending to diminish my life. My fear was indescribably. Tears were forming, the helplessness of my situation –-- only inches away. --- Intent to choke me? And then I can only guess about his other hand. --- Did he hold a knife or perhaps a gun?

The reality of my situation: How did the man enter our house? Door locked or was it? Noiselessly, entering our bedroom --- almost impossible! My mother’s hearing was keen as a mother’s needs to be to hear the whimper of a nearby infant. My protector along side of me could not assist me in time of need --- I was pretty much paralyzed by this time.

Nothing, I mean NOTHING, prepared me for this type of situation.

I dared not scream. That icy cold hand could squelch my attempt in an instant.

In my exhaustion, I turned slightly. My movement accidently placed my left hand gently onto the man’s hand. I naturally shuddered at this unintentional movement that surely would mean my demise.

I suddenly realized that hand, that cold, cold hand was MINE, my very own.

Somehow, I had cut off my own circulation. Now my fear was transferred to this condition. My prayer changed. I sat up on the side of the bed and shook my hand hard --- many, many times. No, my husband was not aware of my dark night dilemma. He was a professional snorer --- with both hands finally warm, I snuggled back under the covers. Happy indeed, ready for what tomorrow would bring.

Helen DePuydt is a regular contributor to the Courier and a member of a homesteading family in the Saco area. All of her stories are true.