I investigated the severed hand, found a week ago.
I found nothing, just a pristine spring day.
The case was filed, the hand disappeared.
I stole it and buried it in the cemetery.
Since then, it constantly haunts me with its intangible presence.
I dream of it, it follows me everywhere, for now, it has endured its onslaught.
But I sense it's a countdown.
The hand seeks revenge for its clandestine burial.
I know that sooner or later it will fall on me with spectral claws.