Her Gifted Hands Novels & Stories

Satisfied with his pitiful state, I waved my hand in the air to wrap up. Out of thin air, his body was engulfed by furious red flames, and the underground cell filled with ear-piercing screams and a rotten smell. I swiveled on my heels before whispering the complete answer to his questions under my breath, “And for the world… gifted.” I left the room and passed other gang members in the hallway. They watched at me in pure horror before bowing their heads down in front of me.

He said that and sent me a transfer of $1.88 on his phone. The note with the transfer contained two words: "Gold Digger." I had been with him for seven whole years and had not spent a dime of his money. I even gave him gifts on holidays and anniversaries. He took them like he was entitled to them, but he never got me anything in return. He would mockingly ask if I thought it was a man's duty to buy gifts for his girlfriend.

I pushed for more information. “He said she touched something she wasn’t supposed to touch on your body, he said a protection glow or something, he said she wouldn’t be able to move her hand at the end, we didn’t believe him so we brought her back home to take care of her and after few month she couldn’t move her hands till she died, it was then I knew you were not just some ordinary child.” I was so confused. “What do you mean by that?” I asked her. “You have a gift bro, she said while her face turned moody, although it killed our mother you can still use it for good.”

She lifted her hand and took down the thumb drive disguised as her earring. Clutching onto the thumb drive, she felt relieved. She narrowed her eyes and exclaimed, "It's finally over." Darren, who sat next to her, remained silent. He looked grim. When he heard her, he grabbed her hands and spread her palms out before him. After more than a year of delicate care, her once calloused palms had become soft again. It made her seem like she had been pampered since she was a child. A single glance of her hands would send people into amazement, admiring how privileged she was.

Von immediately slipped his hand out of mine, ready to follow her command. "Asher, wait," I interjected quickly. I pulled out the gloves I’d brought and held them out. "Take my gift. I made it for you." I placed the hand-stitched item into his little hands just before Cassandra's attendant swept in, taking him away after he paid a hasty final respect to his father.

Still dizzy, I couldn't see very clearly, but I grabbed the white thing into my hand-- I got it right, it was my gift to Al. "Give it!" Rachel's hand reached down and I curled my hand in front of my chest to protect the block. I didn't want her to touch my gift. A huge paw stomped me on my back. I felt it crash all the air in my lungs out of me, together with a mouthful of blood. My hand got wet and my heart dropped -- I got blood on my hand, meaning my gift. Great, now it was definitely ruined.

Likewise, he opened the flask and was surprised that the quantity was double what he had seen in the past. “Wow, what a reward! She is indeed a mother figure,” he told himself. At The Basement Due to the number of hand gloves, he gave the pair to George. “You can have the hand gloves. I can make do without them.” George was reluctant to collect them. He showed concern and pointed out, “Your hands will hurt and your output will be slow.” “Never mind. You will soon get tired and feel sleepy then I will collect them from you.”

"You healed a broken leg with your bare hands." The crowd stands in stunned silence. Everyone is staring, faces filled with shock, fear, and a glimmer of hope. Greta kneels beside us. "Selena, you need to rest. This gift takes everything when it first awakens. You’ll be weak for a while." "The gift?" I glance at my hands; they’re clean. No blood. Nothing. "What gift?" She takes my hands, examining them closely. "Healing. The old blood. The kind that was thought to be lost." She looks at Damian. "Her father’s blood. Kael’s line. It’s been dormant for ages, but something has awakened it."

Her fingers were just as slender as her figure, but the deformation of her joints was also more obvious because of this. He felt a fit of pain in his heart every time he saw her hands. He felt remorseful, regretful, and even helpless. He was wealthy and could get anything he wanted easily. However, he seemed helpless with her hands. Even though he had found her many relevant specialists, they concluded they could only relieve the pain in her hands. They could not get her hands to perform delicate movements as easily as a normal person. If she chose to treat them after a year, he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her hands. He would rather not have his three children than ha

The message read, "I did it. I tossed the most expensive present she got for me and told me she was insulting me with her money." "I bet she hates my guts now, but I noticed something hitting her back when I shoved her away. I wanted to hold her, but I couldn't. The system's countdown shows that I only have five days left. All she has to do now is hate my guts, and once she does… She'll live." The hand in the picture was familiar to me, all too familiar. There was a small black mole on the ring finger. It was the hand that had held mine so many times over the course of the years. It was the same hand that had starred in many memories with me, more than I could count.