Tales from the Icy Gringo

A disembodied hand

Except for my wife and I the dorm room was empty. We lay beside each other on a hard single mattress. A child's bed. Too narrow and too short. If I extended my left leg I could rest it on the bunkbed diagonally across from us. If I extended my left arm I could swing an arc through empty space before hitting the window  our pillows were resting on.

The tiny bed, the window and the dorm room were at the back of a hostel. The hostel was on the outskirts of a town in central Colombia, perched on a wet grassy hill that slid into jungle.

The curtains shifted behind my head. My wife probably. She was crammed up hard against the wall, reading her kindle. I had my eyes closed, relaxed but aware that a slight shift in weight would send me careening off the side of the bed.

My wife hissed and tapped my arm. '...the window!'

I arched my head. The heavy curtains were drawn and below them our bags were slopped in a pile. The windowsill was low, no more than a foot from the carpet. Behind the curtain the window was open because we wanted the cool mountain air that had arrived with the night.

'What about the window?'

'There was a hand, a hand poking in.'

'No there wasn't.'

'Yes. There was. It was touching our bags.'

I grimaced. The idea of a hand blindly fumbling around was darkly amusing. What if I'd been lying there. Would the hand have patted my head, trying to discover by the shape and texture if it was something valuable. What if I'd grabbed the hand. What if I had a knife or a hammer or an old fashioned metal bear trap with teeth.

My wife switched off the light as I slid off the bed and peeked out the window. There was nothing outside. A light on the side of the house lit up the grassy area between the window and a barbed wire fence. Below the window was deep shadow. Creepy.

'I'll have a look.'

'Outside?'

'Yeah.'

'Be careful.'

'Sure.'

I found a stick resting against the side of the house. Someones companion from a hike. I picked it up and crept around a thick clump of jurassic plants into the backyard. Beyond the barbed wire fence was a steep drop and endless hills. I'd seen them in the day. Now there was just black.

I stood in the centre of the grass and peered at the shadowy area beneath our window. It was impossible to see anything. I stepped closer. The stick had a hefty weight that was reassuring. I scowled and yelled at the darkness.

I waited, wondering when my eyes would adjust. Below the window there was no definition at all. Just black nothing.

I waved my stick at the black nothing. Almost immediately a shadow leapt past me and hurled itself over the barbed wire fence.

My body zapped with shock. We must have been staring at each other the whole time, the shadow man and I, barely five feet apart.

I returned to the room and flopped on the bed, damp with sweat.

'Anyone there?'

'Yeah.'

'What happened?'

'They ran off.'