DannyMay 2020. Day Twelve
"Gloves"
The Fenton boy was creepy as hell, and everyone in Amity Park could see it.
When his family had just arrived in town, he would stare at people, empty spots, animals, the sky or any object, whatever it was, and he would not blink, would not move, until he suddenly screamed or ran away crying to his parents, who seemed to find this completely normal.
He also always wore gloves and long sleeves, even in the hottest day of summer or when he was having P.E. at school. One time, people said, a teacher tried to make him take the gloves off, and almost got a finger bitten off.
The only time someone heard him laugh, he was in a closed alley, and facing only a pile of empty boxes, and when he had been gently called, his smile had slipped off in a second.
Somehow, these things didn't stop him from making friends. The little Sam Manson was, after all, a rebel even at her tender age. And little Tucker Foley, for his part, was already odd on his own –more socially accepted– way. But still with friends, he would have that hollow look about himself and look at you like he was staring right into your soul.
Daniel Fenton was truly a creepy child.
People stared at Danny all the time. In summer, they would stare at his gloved hands, as if expecting their bringing attention to them would make him take his gloves off. It, of course, didn't.
He took them off at night, and saw the greyish flesh of his hands and the dark veins underneath the surface. Dead but not quite.
It didn't hurt him, and the ghosts said it wasn't likely to hurt other people if they touched them. Hurt as in "causing pain", because they would be dead, alright, but it wouldn't cause them pain.
Mrs. Death said it wasn't a gift but it wasn't a curse either. That he might need it someday but didn't have to practice if he didn't want to.
Danny didn't know why he would need it, but Mrs. Death was nice and pretty and smelled of autumn flowers, so he didn't say a thing, he would just keep on wearing gloves and long sleeves.