In His Hands

Oct 24 2010, 10:38 pm in Flash Fiction

I saw my first scary movie when I was five, broadcast on a black-and-white television screen the size of a cereal box with long silver antennae protruding out of its cranium. The movie was about a vampire—first I’d heard of them—and the only scene I remember was the TSTL female lead backing away from her bedroom door in fear toward an open window, curtains fluttering behind her in the breeze, a terrified expression on her face, and even I knew the vamp was going to get her from behind.

Too scared to even consider closing my eyes, I forced them away and looked up from the floor at my dad sitting on the sofa behind me. And that was the day my father became the man I remember. My five-year-old eyes gazed up into the face of wisdom as he sent me an all-too-knowing grin, showering me with warmth, enveloping me in his certainty that all was well and good. He offered a beckoning nod, an invitation to crawl into the lap of this magnificent savior, this knight who could slay dragons one minute and fix bicycle tires the next.

I crawled into the sanctuary of his embrace, studied the strong hands that held me, and suddenly the vampire glowing in the eerie darkness was no longer scary, but intriguing. Because I was safe.

My father died soon after that, but I never forgot his hands. Even married a man with hands just like them. And they’ve been passed down to my sons so they can hold their daughters and protect them from the vampires of the world just as my father did me.

Do you remember the first scary movie you saw? What lasting impressions did it leave in its wake?

3 Comments