Skin

The backyard is dark. I flick on my flashlight and scan the trees. A cold breeze slides down my robe. For a moment, the light catches on a pair of eyes, shining and yellow. After a moment, they’re gone.

A raccoon, I think. That’s what made the noise. That strange, scratching sound that reminds me how thin these walls are.

Something bites me. A little sting on my right arm. I slap at it out of reflex, but the damn thing’s already gone.

I go back inside and lock the door. Check the front door. Locked. Check the back door. Still locked. The scratching sound returns. I try to ignore it.

I wake early. I pour a cup of tea and crank a page into my typewriter. The words don’t come easy. An itch tugs at my attention where the phantom insect stung me. I scratch at it but it only gets worse.

The skin on my right hand feels tight. I clench and unclench but it only gets worse. I go to the bathroom. The water is hot where it runs over that hand. But my on my left hand it’s cool. I shrug.

Back to the typewriter.

My right hand only gets worse. The skin stiffens until all I can do is twitch my fingers a bit. I consider calling a doctor. Then, the fingers twitch on their own. I try to close my fist but it only gets worse.

My hand jumps to the keyboard.

HELLO.

The words seem to write themselves.

“Hello?” I say. No response. With my left hand, I type Hello! I don’t know why I included an exclamation mark.

THIS BODY IS NICE.

Oh. Thanks.

I WISH TO HAVE IT.

I’m sorry, but I rather like it too. I’d prefer to keep it.

UNACCEPTABLE.

A rude thing. Whatever it is.

What are you?

A RUDE QUESTION.

My apologies. I’m just surprised. I’ve never talked to my hand before.

YOU ARE NOT. I AM A BEING WHICH UTILIZES SYNAPTIC FUNCTION.

I see. And do other beings usually ask permission before taking control of a body?

NO. I AM POLITE.

If you say so.

IS THAT A YES?

Well, no. I still want to keep this body.

WHAT IF WE SHARE?

How? Split down the middle?

YES. I GET THIS SIDE. YOU GET THE OTHER SIDE.

But I’m a righty.

I DO NOT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS.

I prefer your side.

YOU ARE VERY PICKY.

Well, it is my body.

HALF OF IT IS.

Presumptuous, aren’t you?

I CAN CONTROL EVERY MOTOR NERVE IN YOUR BODY AND EAT AWAY AT YOUR BRAIN UNTIL ALL THAT IS LEFT OF YOUR MIND IS THE MEMORY OF THIS MOMENT.

Well, then. How else can one respond?

Will you help me write?

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

I can’t express how strange this whole thing is to me.

I IMAGINE IT WOULD BE JARRING.

So, will you?

FINE. BUT I GET THIS SIDE.

You get that side.

And then I sat back. Sipped some tea.

Now what?

I WOULD LIKE SOME FOOD.

Me too. Do you like fish?

ONLY IF IT IS BREADED. AND GLAZED WITH HONEY.

You’re very picky, you know that?