The Hand

I walked into my grandmother's house and looked down through the hallway. As I turned away to go to the kitchen something small and shiny caught my eye. I walked closer and saw that the shiny part was part of a picture frame hanging from the wall. This one was smaller than the others. It was hung near the end and it was during fall. There in the center of the picture stood my grandparents with their arms around each other. They had just climbed the mountain and made it to the top where the view of orange, red, and yellow leaves hung perfectly. As I was about to leave for the second time another small detail caught my eye. In the back of them a few hundred feet hidden in the brush there was a person in all black. They were hunched over as if waiting for the picture to be over. My eyes traveled all the way down to their hands and I saw what they were holding and when I did I gasped.