Her Gifted Hands Novels & Stories

“Tell me everything.” I did. She listened with the full attention she gives when it matters, especially when it’s about people she loves. When I finished, she was quiet for a second. “He’s going to help people,” she said. “Yeah,” I said. “I think he is.” “With his hands,” she added, almost laughing. “Literally with his hands.” “Apparently.” She looked up at the ceiling, half smiling. “That is so, Max. Fox houses, toast under the door, and now healing people with his hands. Of course, that’s what his ability turned into.”

"It's too expensive! No, it's no longer something that can be described with words. I've never seen so much money in my entire life... In short, take it. I don't want it." "Fool." Simon opened her arms and held her in her arms. "I gave it to you, it's yours... Your name is written on it. What's the use of giving it to me? Even if it's with me, it's still yours." "I..." Gladyce opened her mouth. "Shh." Simon raised her hand and covered her mouth. "Don't be afraid. You have to get used to it... Not only these, but I'm also yours. A quarter of the Handerson Family is mine, and so is yours. What my mother gave me is not worth mentioning."

Her hands seemed folded that way to give the impression of her holding a thing. "Do not be afraid! I come to give you a present," she said. I looked at her and did not see anything that looked even remotely like a present in her hands, but she still kept walking towards me. It was an entirely strange experience, and the strangeness only seemed to increase in strength as time went on. "Stretch out your hands," she commanded. I felt my body having an irresistible urge to do as she said. And I did, stretching my hands to receive whatever gift she had for me.

“I’ve never had a garden before. Do you think I might be able to find someone to teach me how to take care of it?” He propped his chin on his fist and leaned on the arm of his chair. “I’ll teach you.” Surely he was teasing. Men like Keilor did not run around with pruning shears and weed flowers. “You, a gardener?” He winked at her. “It impresses the ladies.” He waved a graceful hand towards her present. “Open your gift.” He watched as she awkwardly held the package steady with her right wrist and worked at the seams with her left, making no move to interfere. When the paper parted, spilling a cool wash of ivory silk across her lap, he gently removed the paper and helped drape the straps of t

“But whenever a child is born, the universe sort of… flips a coin. A fifty per cent chance that the eldest will manifest with one ability or the other. The second eldest child will then inherit the remaining one. That is if they even show signs at all. Merely having the potential inside isn’t always enough to harness it. Some of the children never show any aptitude at all.” “So that means I could have ended up like you?” I asked. “Would I also not…?” “…Not age?” she provided with a small smile. “No, my circumstance is a little… unique. At most, those who take after me remain looking youthful for a bit longer… but, unlike me, they do eventually pass on… everyone always does.” There was a holl

Ignoring the dizzying haze, she stared at her hands with mounting horror. She distinctly recalled her own hands—the scarred, calloused hands of the veteran assassin—being vaporized, shattered into biological mist in the final blast. Yet, the pair before her now were utterly intact. More unsettlingly, they were small. For a woman approaching thirty, who had endured countless years of lethal training, brutal combat, and hardened survival, these hands were a profound, monstrous departure from memory. They were smooth, unblemished, and chillingly delicate. These hands belong to a girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen.

It was the face of Chris Gomez, now sitting in a wheelchair without both his arms and with half his face ruined. I stood beside Chris with teary eyes, my voice choked but firm. "Five years ago, he used those hands to give that little girl hope. "Five years later, the hands that had burned to ashes to save lives are now smeared by you as evidence of sexual assault against women! "Yvonne Shaw, touch the dirty collar marks on your neck and tell me, do you even deserve to mention the word 'hands'?! "Do you even deserve to be touched by him? Even with a prosthetic, I'd find it disgusting!"

I mean, what did I expect? I nodded and replied, “It's healing.” “Well, it should heal faster now, since the person that shot you is dead.” His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my lips, but I couldn't see his expression. “Wait, does this mean the gift this time is the shooter's finger?” I asked, still not sure I wanna open the box at all. “Yes, love. The box contains his fingers…” he said, his hand below my chin as he raised my face up, “...all ten of them.”

“What we experienced during the mission, we never expected it. Yes, we knew it would be a tough call but we were optimistic about getting what we were sent to get. Until the girl, herself, pulled off a stunt that pulled me back from proceeding with plan B,” “What is it she did?” “Master, the girl is gifted!” The reaction from the seated man showed how shocked he was to be receiving such a piece of news from one of his men. It was almost like he never expected such news. “She’s gifted?” the old man asks for reconfirmation and he receives a nod to affirm it. “What type of gift did she display?” “I do not know what it is, bit all I can tell is that she had glowing hands which burnt my men that

His voice held unto the mystery and Melody of the world. I couldn't ask the moon goddess for more after providing such a mystical, glorious man for me as my mate. I step backward and bent down to attend to his wound but he held out his hand. That was when I saw his long Milky fingers. It also has tattoos. I frown in confusion. why would anyone be gifted the beautiful image of flowers on the hand and cheek? " I would dress your wound to stop the blee..ding " I stammer but he shook his head.