15 + 9 points
The Callouses on Your Hands by Ela Tesla
February 20th, 2012 3:42 PM
There is a hole in my foot, scars on my knees, bruises on my legs. Fingers that bend in not-quite-the-right way. Such is the life of a hunter.
You probably won't believe my story, but I assure you, every word of it is true. You can't make shit like this up.
The scar on my foot was once a hole. A railroad spike was shoved clean through. This demon liked to pin his victims down by sticking spikes in their hands and feet. DON'T voice that biblical reference I know you're thinking. You really think I haven't heard that one a hundred times? Thankfully, my cousin came to the rescue before all of my limbs were incapacitated. It took a while, but the hole in my foot healed, and I could walk again. I still can't wiggle my toes properly though.
A lot of scars happen. Sometimes you get tortured. There are lashes on my back. Dozens of them, some small, some big. The small ones hurt more. Some of the scars are less glamorous. Sometimes, when you're running through the forest, being chased by hell hounds, you trip, and you fall, and your knees bleed. A lot.
In all honesty, I don't remember what its like to not have bruises. Big ones, small ones, purple ones, orange ones. Sometimes I can count at least a dozen different colors in one bruise. I guess it just comes with the work. You get into a fist fight with a shapeshifter, you're gonna come out with bruises. You get pushed down three flights of stairs by a ghost, you get bruises. And a concussion. Sometimes they're bad. Sometimes you have to go to a hospital because you're seeing dancing tennis balls that aren't really there. Then they give you medication that doesn't so much make the tennis balls go away, as it does add tap-dancing shoes to the mix.
I don't remember what happened to my hand. One minute we're hunting a poltergeist, the next, my hand is broken in seven places.
There are marks on my face, my hands, my arms. People call them 'freckles' but I know better. Here's the thing about demon blood: once it touches your skin, your skin is never the same again. No matter how hard you scrub, the marks never go away. The blood comes off, easy enough, but it burns, and the marks never leave.
You probably won't believe my story, but I assure you, every word of it is true. You can't make shit like this up.
The scar on my foot was once a hole. A railroad spike was shoved clean through. This demon liked to pin his victims down by sticking spikes in their hands and feet. DON'T voice that biblical reference I know you're thinking. You really think I haven't heard that one a hundred times? Thankfully, my cousin came to the rescue before all of my limbs were incapacitated. It took a while, but the hole in my foot healed, and I could walk again. I still can't wiggle my toes properly though.
A lot of scars happen. Sometimes you get tortured. There are lashes on my back. Dozens of them, some small, some big. The small ones hurt more. Some of the scars are less glamorous. Sometimes, when you're running through the forest, being chased by hell hounds, you trip, and you fall, and your knees bleed. A lot.
In all honesty, I don't remember what its like to not have bruises. Big ones, small ones, purple ones, orange ones. Sometimes I can count at least a dozen different colors in one bruise. I guess it just comes with the work. You get into a fist fight with a shapeshifter, you're gonna come out with bruises. You get pushed down three flights of stairs by a ghost, you get bruises. And a concussion. Sometimes they're bad. Sometimes you have to go to a hospital because you're seeing dancing tennis balls that aren't really there. Then they give you medication that doesn't so much make the tennis balls go away, as it does add tap-dancing shoes to the mix.
I don't remember what happened to my hand. One minute we're hunting a poltergeist, the next, my hand is broken in seven places.
There are marks on my face, my hands, my arms. People call them 'freckles' but I know better. Here's the thing about demon blood: once it touches your skin, your skin is never the same again. No matter how hard you scrub, the marks never go away. The blood comes off, easy enough, but it burns, and the marks never leave.
Congratulations for surviving the monsters you faced, and mostly intact at that.