The Hand Not-So-Tapping

Fingertips tapping their rhythm over and over. They tap hard and harder yet the longer they tap. They hurt with short time and begin to fall with a sickening thud as the pressure gets stronger. The seconds fall flat on them bringing pain which escalates quickly as flesh peals away to show a puddle of blood, splashing rhythmically with the tap of the bone on the surface it humors. The bone with time begins to make a larger sound, greater than that of the flesh. The echo of it sends through the air into his ear which inevitably stops the tapping pleased. A grin rips the air of silence and gives weight to the presence of the writer laughing with thought emanating itself through the pencil recording the plot ceaselessly in the hand not-so-tapping.