An Illusion of Flesh

She idly turns her hand before the window. Where the black sunlight touches it, illuminating it in a smoky haze, it appears like an apparition, a pale shadow of her hand. She turns her hand and it becomes solid again. She inspects it thoroughly, the soft skin on her palm, the spider web cracks on her calloused fingers. It looks no different than it always has been.

She has not noticed that her hand has faded, a pale shadow with the pigment of her skin. Where the sunlight hits it, it is gone completely, disappearing beyond her wrist, catching the edges of it softly when the light shifts. 

Art by Tere Arigo

Text by Lucie MacAulay