Wednesday, November 21, 2012

A Circle of Time

The rich golden red hues of the sand glitter against the glass as the creator of time tries patiently to pour each granule into the ornately carved hourglass.

He had counted each morsel before pouring it into its capsule to ensure that this new keeper would not die young, nor grow to be too old. He was careful in his endless counting, counting, counting for a millennia of years kept track of by the lower ranking keepers to prevent his thoughts from straying to the past lest he lose count.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, the clocks in the bellies of keepers keep in time with their hearts' beat while their eyes watch and minds record every event of each day.

Satisfied that not a single spec has escaped his wrinkled hand, the eldest keeper sits back in his chair and sighs. He rubs his age forgotten hands and eyes the hourglass as if inspecting it for some initial unseen flaw.

The chair beneath him creaks as he leans forward, taking the timer in hand. The glass's texture smooth like a new born child's skin after arriving into a new world, a new time, and yet the carved exterior of the case surrounding it is rough, gnarled even, and reminds him of battered wood, perfected with time, and still scarred telling of its survival through the long years.

The eldest keeper's thoughts stray to past mistakes and with a huff of his resolve to not make them again, he caps the hourglass.


In the nether reaches of Somewhere, an hourglass drops its last granule of sand, its sole keeper's heart stops mid-beat, eyes close, his mind still recording the end of time.

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