Solomon's Corridor

The Skin Glove

“The stitches are too tight, they’re going to break.” Yanette whined. Her eyes still heavy with sleep.

“It’s either too tight, or we wasted last week’s rations on you.” Her Ah-mah grunted as she squinted through aged yellow spectacles.

                Yanette’s Ah-mah worked with nimble fingers to sew the seam’s tight through her granddaughter’s skin gloves.  The gloves were a sheet of material resembling surgical mesh. This mesh Ah-mah could only buy on the black market. Once bought each sheet was painstakingly cut to size and fitted around Yanette’s deformed hands. It was a very familiar routine for her as she sighed and sat back in her seat. With both arms extended she waited for Ah-ma to finish sewing the delicate lace mesh. Looking up at the antique clock she watched the long hand tick. It was just past eleven.

At last the gloves were complete! Sewn tightly up to her elbows. She beckoned her granddaughter closer to a low table where a large basin of water stood on top. Ah-mah carefully opened the cap of the liquid catalyst bought together with the mesh. She poured a good amount across her granddaughter’s hands and arms. Instinctively Yanette rubbed her hands together and lathered the amber tonic evenly over her arms. The excess liquid spilled into the large basin. Yanette held her arms up to her nose and watched as the skin lace contracted on either hand. Slowly it drew beads of blood to the surface. She held her tears back and listened for the process to finish, a familiar knuckle popping sound. The mesh had finally disrupted the crystallized deposits and reached her joints. She could see the joints of her fingers reduce their swelling. Then as she felt the emulsion take place the blood covering her hands fizzed and bubbled as a white mineral liquid oozed out. Not with heat but with the release of gases as more blood ran down from her arms. Quickly she plunged her bloody appendages into the basin of dirty water. The blood turned the water into a deep maroon. She shook her hands vigorously in the liquid solution scrubbing them together, and clenching her fists while shaking out what she could. Yanette then extended her hands to her Ah-mah and had them carefully dried in an old dirty green rag.

“Let me see.” Her Ah-mah cooed as she opened the rag. Each finger flexed with fine precision. “No lines. Good.” she whispered. Ah-mah pushed herself back in her wicker wheelchair. She looked up at her beautiful granddaughter. She hoped today would not be a loss. They needed to make enough gold to buy more exotic seeds for the shop. This season their small crop of plants did not grow well and the seeds they harvested were small and few.