With Halloween fast approaching, my mind drifts back to a story that circulated among us kids right in the middle of the Seventies.
I don't know exactly how old I was, but I was at that magical age where believing in absurd things is still perfectly normal. And yes, it’s easy for kids to believe; the real problem is when adults do, but that’s a different story altogether.
The autumn afternoons in the courtyard where my Grandmother lived were truly enchanting. Autumn arrived right after the summer heat and splendour, and the sight of those intense colours was deeply evocative. You could feel that subtle seasonal melancholy creep into our games, shortening the hours and swallowing us up in the darkness of the evening long before we expected it.
I'm almost certain this story was cooked up by some older kid who simply wanted to find a way to scare us all, especially the youngest ones. Maybe Stefano, or perhaps someone else... I don't quite recall. Anyway, the legend went like this:
It seemed that in the courtyard, just as night fell, someone had noticed some strange presences. It wasn't a stray dog (although one did pass through now and then) nor was it any shady figure: no thief, no ill-intentioned person, no snake. Nothing of the sort. Ah, and not even a monster. It appeared that the apparition was only a part of someone... yes, just a piece.
So, when the evening emptied the courtyard, at a certain point, right from above—as if descending from the sky or the dark rooftops of the houses—a hand would arrive, but just one hand. Someone might ask: “Was it Thing from The Addams Family?”
No, I can assure you it wasn't. But I'm not saying this because I saw it. They told us that it didn't do anything; it just stayed there, suspended, motionless... and that's why we called it: The Dangling Hand.
I wasn't all that scared, but the idea was unsettling nonetheless. I remember the children younger than me were truly terrified. Some, while listening to the tale, thought it best to run for the hills and barricade themselves inside. The rest of us pretended it didn't concern us. But when it grew dark and the kids went home one by one... well, when only two or three of us were left, we’d say quick goodbyes and race towards our front doors, slamming them shut and leaving the darkness outside—along with The Dangling Hand, which, truthfully, nobody ever saw.
Yes, I know it was just a prank invented to fool us. But even today, when the days get shorter and the air grows colder, I think of that poor hand. Maybe I'll get it a woollen glove so it won't dangle from the cold all winter long.
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