Laoeked1111 Habitica 01-21-2023

Prompt: WHAT IF - What if you had a device that could directly manipulate the “properties” (position, age, etc.) of any object in the real world as well as “spawn” (summon) any animal? Write a story about someone using such a device to “troll” (prank) people (e.g. moving the TV remote around or summoning (“spawning”) squirrels near where people are walking their dogs).

Hand of God

“What did you call for?” I asked Logan.

We were standing next to a rustic bench table under the shade of one of the many large elm trees found in Madison Park. The sun had only come over the horizon about an hour prior, and as such, the only inhabitants of the park at this hour were a few devoted joggers and cyclists and the squirrels who chattered away in the treetops. Madison Park was pleasant at this early time; there were no dogs to dirty the paths with excrement nor stroller-bound babies to disturb the mellifluous sounds of the nature around; the air was cool and just slightly damp; a light breeze wafted across the open grassy fields and empty playground and gently rustled the top of the tree we were under.

Yet Madison Park was no place for an early spring-morning meeting. My apartment or Logan’s apartment were far superior options. Why the park? It was by lucky chance that the morning was not so rimy as those of the last week, but it was still damp enough to sog my shoes with dew and draw sweat from my clammy hands. I was not exactly pleased by the decision. Logan hadn’t heard my question. He was standing just by the base of the elm, examining the bark. The wood was knotty and the fibers twisted together; at several locations on the trunk were large, amorphous bulges. The tree was undoubtedly ancient and of great intrigue for him. I repeated my question.

“Oh right,” he said. “I have something to give you.”

He turned from the tree and pulled a box out of his bag. From the box he produced a small object: it took on the form of the human hand and had a silky, silvery luster. The glove seemed to produce a slight luminance at the fingertips, though it was difficult to tell in the scarlet light of the early sun.

“What is it?”

“I call it” – he paused for dramatic effect – “the Hand of God.”

Without waiting for me to respond, he continued: “It has the power to alter objects and summon animals!”

I gave him a quizzical look.

Impatient to demonstrate, Logan stretched the glove over his left hand and pointed at the elm tree. Nothing happened.

I turned and scolded him for wasting my time, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded back in the direction of the tree, and when I looked back, the old elm was gone. In its place stood a thin sapling budding tiny green leaves from several knobs in the branches. I rubbed my eyes. The little tree was still there. I looked back at Logan, now holding the Hand of God out.

“How did you –”

“Take it,” said he, beaming.

I didn’t move. I didn’t know what the glove was or how it did what it did. I didn’t know where Logan had got such a preposterous item. I didn’t know whether I could trust a person suddenly offering me a glove with divine power. What if it blew my hand off? I resolved to inquire further.

“How did you do that? Where did you get this thing?”

“When you believe what happens in your dreams, weird things happen.”

“You’re telling me this –this thing– is a product of your dreams.”

He nodded eagerly.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Not as ridiculous as you think.”

He gestured for me to accept the glove. Not a chance, thought I. In truth, I was intrigued by the said Hand of God. How did it work? Were there others like it? What were its limitations? Logan knew I was too easily confused between the real and the imagined; now, he was using that to his advantage.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

“Well, who would I give it to but you, Cam?”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Well, if you must know, I thought it pretty clever of you to make my locker really hard to open by sticking a giant magnet in it.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“It was; I saw you do it. You ought to spend less time orchestrating the prank and more time figuring out how to be more furtive with it.”

I cursed.

“Anyway, I thought you ought to take this for your aid in the biz,” he continued. “I have no use for it.”

“This is some setup to get me back.”

He held his hands up. “I promise I’m being completely truthful. I’m not trying to get you back. Don’t you think I would just use the Hand of God for myself if I wanted to do that?”

I thought about this. “Fine,” I said, and I took the glove from him.

He smiled.

“I expect to hear of your brilliant exploits, Cam.”

“You will.”

When he had turned away to return to the parking lot, I smiled. A grand scheme was already brewing in my head.

(note: I wanted to write more and continue the story, but I have midterms next week, so I decided to cut the story here. I might go back and add more in the future if I feel like it.)