Wash Your Hands

Wash Your Hands

By E. M. Areson

Yàn ate his dumplings in silence. His two room apartment was small, with only a table and one chair to furnish his combined dining room and kitchen. His bed was shoved in the corner underneath it all his clothes set folded. The only non-essential possession he had was a wooden box about the size of a shoe box. It was rather plain and set in the middle of the table next to his dumplings.

A loud knock at the door made Yàn sit up. He knew what this meant. It happened so often he could nearly predict it. He walked over to the sink washed his hands then opened the door. Mr. Wang, the newest local Triad leader. He had a thug behind him, in his belt the thug had a rather large handgun.

“Come in,” Yàn said in Chinese. “Please wash your hands.”
Yàn himself went over and re-washed his hands but Mr. Wang and his thug merely walked by into his small house.

“You are a hard man to find Yàn. I’ve been hearing about you though,” Mr. Wang said, also in Chinese, as he sat in Yàn’s chair. “I’ve heard you can do incredible things because of a pearl you have. Is that true?”

“What if it is?”  Yàn asked.

“Then I want that pearl.”

“It has been in my charge for five hundred years. Tell me, why should I give it up now?” Yàn was surprised when Mr. Wang laughed.

“You expect me to believe that silly story you’ve tricked your neighbors into believing? You’re a man, not a dragon.”

Mr. Wang’s thug said something in English and not for the first time Yàn was reminded he really needed to learn a little of the ever popular tongue.

“My associate thinks the pearl is in that box. Is it?” Mr. Wang asked in Chinese pointing to the box in front of him.

Yàn shrugged, “For over five thousand years the pearls have been used as a source of good in the world. The life of their guardians was stretched out by centuries leading to legends about them. Due to their bravery when protecting the pearls they became immortalized as dragons in both legion and art. Over time people forgot the dragons were men. They portrayed the dragons as benevolent, and the guardians of the pearls always try to live up to that expectation.”

“Please, enough. Give me the pearl.” Mr. Wang looked unamused.

Yàn smiled sadly, “Take it.”

Mr. Wang opened the box, inside was a pearl a little smaller than a baseball. It almost appeared to glow with white light. “So this is it.”

Mr. Wang smiled and reached out his hand. He pulled it out and for a minute he burned with power. Then he simply burned. He dropped the pearl back onto the table and held his red-hot hands. Flames began to lick up his arms. He fell back and out of instinct the thug caught him. The thug's hands too caught fire and the man screamed out in pain. Only a second later, there was silence. Both men were dead and the fire on their hands went out.

Yàn washed his hands again then quickly put the pearl away, “I tried to warn you when you came in.” He told the dead men. “The pearl has a bad reaction to the oils on human hands. That’s why I said to wash them. But you're no different than any of the others. Goodbye.”

Yàn took the box and walked out of his apartment, stopping on the way to tell his neighbor to call the authorities. He’d done all this before. After getting to the street he got his bearings and began towards the nearest Freak Home. It would be best to lay low for a hundred years or so. And after all, who needed the help of the pearl more than the Freaks. Yàn nodded to himself, yes, it was about time he began interfering again. After all, he was no more normal then they were.

Photo by: Oliver Needham