I wake in the morning. It seems like any other day. But something feels wrong. I soon discover is it because of the third appendage emerging from my rib cage. As amazing as the sight of it is though, the extra arm does nothing to stop me from screaming and falling out of bed. And so, my day begins with a near heart-attack, two bruised elbows and an aching back.
After my rude awakening, I drag myself out of bed. I eat quickly, shoveling food into my mouth with two of my arms and combing my hair with my third. I get ready quickly, brushing my teeth with one of my hands and applying my make-up with the others. I dress quickly, pulling my sweater on with my two regular arms and slipping on my shoes with the third. I'm done in half the time. Despite all the complications, I'm pleased, and I remind myself to sleep in tomorrow.
At school, I'm the talk of the class. Everyone is looking at me. When I raise my hand to answer a question, I raise my new arm. When I meet the new kid in the class, I shake his hand with my new one. Everything seems ridiculously easy with this third appendage. I write with two of my hands and doodle with the other. I'm done with the school assignments WAY before everyone else. I finish all my homework in class.
When I get home, I spend fifteen minutes finishing a paper that's due next week. I type with all three of the arms, pausing only occasionally to flip through my binder and check my notes. The rest of the night, I cruise the Internet, watching YouTube and texting with my friends. Texting is super fun (not to mention, much faster) with three thumbs instead of two. I read throughout an impromptu dinner, two of my hands holding the book and one of them holding the fork. After dinner, I reset my alarm clock to thirty minutes past my usual wake-up time. I figure I can easily make up the lost minutes with the aid of my new arm.
I stay up much later than normal. I spend the extra time doing important things such as goofing off on my phone and computer. By 3 am, I am exhausted and sleep-deprived, and my head is drooping on my shoulders. Once I finally decide to go to bed, my usual bedtime routine takes me three minutes, tops. By the time I am done, I'm already half asleep.
I sluggishly climb the stairs one at a time and enter my room. I walk like one of the undead; my feet are leaden weights. I crawl into bed and burrow under the covers like a mole in the earth. Covering myself with my quilt, I give a long yawn and quickly retreat into a dreamless space.
In the morning, I wake up to my blaring alarm. I lazily throw one of my hands up to shut it off. At first, it feels like a regular day, just like any other. But then I realize, something is different. Peering down through my sleepy, sand-crusted eyes, I look down at my arms. i count them slowly : one, two...
Hardly believing my eyes, I give a double-take.
My third arm has disappeared.
After my rude awakening, I drag myself out of bed. I eat quickly, shoveling food into my mouth with two of my arms and combing my hair with my third. I get ready quickly, brushing my teeth with one of my hands and applying my make-up with the others. I dress quickly, pulling my sweater on with my two regular arms and slipping on my shoes with the third. I'm done in half the time. Despite all the complications, I'm pleased, and I remind myself to sleep in tomorrow.
At school, I'm the talk of the class. Everyone is looking at me. When I raise my hand to answer a question, I raise my new arm. When I meet the new kid in the class, I shake his hand with my new one. Everything seems ridiculously easy with this third appendage. I write with two of my hands and doodle with the other. I'm done with the school assignments WAY before everyone else. I finish all my homework in class.
When I get home, I spend fifteen minutes finishing a paper that's due next week. I type with all three of the arms, pausing only occasionally to flip through my binder and check my notes. The rest of the night, I cruise the Internet, watching YouTube and texting with my friends. Texting is super fun (not to mention, much faster) with three thumbs instead of two. I read throughout an impromptu dinner, two of my hands holding the book and one of them holding the fork. After dinner, I reset my alarm clock to thirty minutes past my usual wake-up time. I figure I can easily make up the lost minutes with the aid of my new arm.
I stay up much later than normal. I spend the extra time doing important things such as goofing off on my phone and computer. By 3 am, I am exhausted and sleep-deprived, and my head is drooping on my shoulders. Once I finally decide to go to bed, my usual bedtime routine takes me three minutes, tops. By the time I am done, I'm already half asleep.
I sluggishly climb the stairs one at a time and enter my room. I walk like one of the undead; my feet are leaden weights. I crawl into bed and burrow under the covers like a mole in the earth. Covering myself with my quilt, I give a long yawn and quickly retreat into a dreamless space.
In the morning, I wake up to my blaring alarm. I lazily throw one of my hands up to shut it off. At first, it feels like a regular day, just like any other. But then I realize, something is different. Peering down through my sleepy, sand-crusted eyes, I look down at my arms. i count them slowly : one, two...
Hardly believing my eyes, I give a double-take.
My third arm has disappeared.
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kfolley
May 08, 2017
I like the way that you weave the tale of the third arm. And, was it all a dream; you let the reader decide. I have made proofreading changes since this is being considered for publication. To view changes, select Edit and Revisions.