STORY TIME
BLACK HAND
HOW I LEARNED TO LOVE MY DAUGHTER’ S IMAGINARY FRIEND.
By Lisa Schmeiser
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In the waning days of summer 2013, my toddler calmly announced,
I have a friend named Black Hand. He’ s here right now. You can’ t see him. �
I’ ve read enough fantasy and horror that my first thought upon hearing this was, Oh my God, the malicious undead have found a portal to this world through my innocent child. I really hope this doesn’ t turn into a thing where we’ re facing off against the forces of evil. Zelda Rubenstein has been dead for a while.
What actually came out of my mouth was, �So is he staying for dinner? Where do you think he should sit? Will you be setting a place for him? � �If you’ re dealing with malice from beyond, best not to tip your hand that you’ re on to it, right? �
Black Hand did stay for dinner. And like Sheridan Whiteside, this imaginary man who came to dinner has insinuated himself into our everyday life, and the surprises haven’ t stopped.
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