Time and Death stood in the evening desert sun, the fading light spilling blue and amber shadows across the cooling sand.
Death was putting Time's decayed blanket into the satchel once more.
The young boy looked up at the robed skeleton with no fear, but with a hint of sadness.
"Who'll watch for me when I grow old again?"
Death took the hourglass from his pocket, and this time it was whole. He pressed it into the boy's hand, then pointed at the sun.
Time nodded.
With his other hand, Death pointed east and described an arc with his arm until both his bony index fingers pointed right at the crescent of red gold light that yet shone on the horizon.
Clock hands together, a full cycle, as if at noon or midnight.
Time understood.
Turn it every hour. You will pass, but never grow old.
The packed satchel lay on the sand between them.
They shook hands over it, young flesh to old bones.
"Thank you, Death. For everything."
Death gave a single solemn nod, and walked into the darkened east.
Time turned, following the setting sun, holding the hourglass up to the fading sunlight, turning the sand the color of candle flame.
The stars slowly emerged and a rind of moon broke the horizon.
A soft desert wind slowly churned and swirled eddies of sand over the unneeded satchel.
By the time the moon reached its zenith, the satchel was completely buried and never seen again.
YOU ARE READING
Fading Echo
FantasyTime frees Echo from her stony prison, and gives her back her voice, but Echo goes back to her old tricks, and Time begins to fade...Will Echo save him? And at what cost to herself?
