Tisn't 'Normal'

If there was anything Xan couldn't do, that did be what most found as 'child's play' : writing. Everyone around him had 'that queer aura of creativity' that he lacked and, sometimes, he wondered if writing was an inborn trait ingrained in people. His father, grandfather, great-grandfather, great-great-grandfather and many before him were all ghostwriters by profession and if things were to resume as it was, he'd be the one to break the tradition. To be frank, he couldn't even 'hold a pen' for he was,  by circumstance, a handicapped - he had no wrists, fingers or even hands. 

To make matters worse, he was an only child-impaired ever since he had gone on a long drive with his father. He had no idea that it was his father's plan all along but there was a small mistake and because of that small possibility, he lived but the other didn't. Since his father was a ghostwriter, no one knew about his private life and so the century old novel carried on - as if the author never died in the first place. 

A decade later, the publishers decided to let the boy continue on with the family tradition but considering his past writing experiences and disability, they knew that it'd be better if the current author, who was only filling for the temporary post, continue. Xan was devastated for for all his life, finishing off his father's novel was his primary goal . But, what could he do? 

Xan's mother, however, was utterly furious with the decision and, unlike her son, wasn't happy with the it. Instead, she decided that if anybody would do better than her husband at completing the novel, it'd be Xan. She too was aware of his current situation but, nevertheless, tried in finding a way to accomplish her goal.

Seven years after the publishers declared their verdict, Xan found himself busy preparing for college. In a few minutes, his mother appeared - with a very familiar knapsack in her hand. Xan examined it closely and realised that it was the very bag he had had the day he lost his hands. In the bag were some of his school materials from then and nothing more. He sighed wondering how this bag remained with him in his last moments with his father. He smiled, wishing he had remembered what happened that night- other than what witnesses had inferred after the accident. 

A pair of prosthetic hand was given to him for graduating college and so that he could study just like his peers than suffer and become homeschooled again. Xan, once he had finished unpacking, grabbed some papers from the bag from earlier that he couldn't resist but bring with him. To test his new hands, he grabbed his pen and began jotting down words he never knew he could write with his hand again. As he scribbled whatever he could think of into the papers, he found himself with few and few papers. He held the last paper with his prosthetic limb and after a sigh, filled the pages again till he had to use the next page. Once he was done with the page, he turned it over only to see the page already filled. Dazed, he looked through the other papers and there it was-his continuation of his father's novel. Then it hit him. 

The day he lost his hands, he remembered reading it all to his father and even the part where his father declared that that was the best ending he could ever think of. His mind recalled his father turning to the back seat, where he had sat at the time, and grinning at him. Suddenly, he felt the car moving forward in a even quicker pace. He knew his father felt it too but his neck didn't turn around and the grin from earlier showed no sign 0f subsiding. He felt his eyes hurt and began rubbing it but it didn't help. Then everything went dark and once the colours appeared into his eyes, he was at the hospital and couldn't rub his eyes like he did before.