His Hands
by Tom B. Taker
His hands were instruments of creation. Wood became lumber; lumber became two-by-fours; sticks became a house.
What he did best, though, was making that house into a home.
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This post is part of the BlogShorts challenge. June 2011 – 30 stories – 30 words – 30 days.
Shouts from the Abyss 
Aw, this is pretty touching.
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Hey, thanks! I actually waffled on this one quite a bit. In the end, though, like always, “what the hell?” won over. 🙂
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Much like my barmy post this morning: it can’t all be about poop. 🙂
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Love it. Such a softy for hardwood.
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Thanks. My goal for this one way to write in a way that was possible if I wasn’t me. I was trying to stretch my chops. 🙂
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There are two kinds of men in this world. You give them both a stick and one builds a home and the other beats his dog.
Glad to know dogs are safe in the Abyss. 🙂
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As usual I’m in limbo. I can’t build a darn thing but I believe in being kind to animals. I don’t know if dogs would be safe here, though. My cats would probably get them. (By hiding under the bed, of course.)
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Glad to know you’re your using your wood properly good sir. And by that I meant your pencil, love this short.
B*
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