Escape the grind continuation

The only part

I promose that my other story is way better, please go check it out. I tried to stay true to the story, but I only did this 'cause I was bored and it isn't even that good ... so, bye.
~BGB

It only took a few seconds before her body patted the damp soil of the space she had fallen towards.

When Elisha rolled around, onto her back, the man stood directly near her feet.

She distantly felt a small throb on her wrist, a red mark slowly coming into view, spreading from the center, like a small splash of ink on paper.

"Who are you?" she asked the man, who was watching her with an intent gaze, his intention unknown to her.

His face was shadowed from the dimness of the room, under his eyes and coloring the shallows underneath his cheekbones a pale shade of black.

Her body was smeared with the dark brown of damp soil, and her glasses lying next to her in the soft sand.

"I have not a name, as you do. In my time, names were not often given to those who are not in need of one. Of course, the creator only made me to wield a sword in the battles of mankind."

"The creator, you mean God?" she asked, getting up from the cold Earth that lay beneath her in the same way she lay on top of it. She was a Catholic.

"There is no God, no Heaven, no Hell and Lucifer is not an angel that has fallen, for angels do not exist in the same way everything else does not. Religion is only a way for all you people to make sense of the world as it was before. We are all warriors, made to serve the creator's needs, as will you when you die, as do your ancestors who are dead."

To Elisha, it all made sense, but there was still a part of her that had gone to church every Sunday, that prayed every night and every morning, that dreamed of the face of God to be as wonderful as any. A part of her that did not want to let go of the beliefs she had set in her mind for nearly her whole life.

"So who is the creator?" she asked, still curious as to everything peculiar that had happened today.

All she ever did any day was stick to her routine.

Grind, pull, pour.

Grind, pull, pour.

Grind, pull, pour.

"The creator is not a who, or a he, or a she. The creator is the ageless concept of time, and the dreams of those who have dreamed."

"So are you going to speak like Shakespeare telling me riddles?"

The man chuckled, it was a smooth and deep chuckle that reminded her of the glassy brittleness of a glazed syrup. 

"It is true I speak a small handful like your primitive ancestors. But your language is far simpler than those of the older times. I would like to speak to you of your destiny, for those of your kind call me fate, and I see all that is to happen."

"What are you talking about, I thought you made swords?"

Elisha could make sense of some to of the things he was saying. But how could her fate be bigger than the coffee shop, she was apart of  the coffee shop, not apart from the coffee shop.

"Every decade, when the crystals shine bright and bring more warmth to the world, there is a chosen mortal, as you are, that will be brought to the creator to be made immortal earlier than those of their companions. They shall be erased from the world, as if they were never there, like the man who had really invented wine, replaced by the story of one of the many gods that the Greeks believed in."

"You mean, become a warrior of the creator before the time I was supposed to?"

The old man simply shook his head.

"It is the only plan of life that I cannot foresee. The creator has taken special interest in you. You accept life the way no other would, you wish not to change your daily whereabouts, and you always feel as if you are not awake. Everything about your life is tiring your restless soul. Yet you wish not for a different life. So, make your way with me. Make a change to your life and everybody's life surrounding yours, and be one of the mortals the creator has chosen to change the world. No more grind, pull and pour. Only a peculiar feeling of being free that is meant to be felt. For you, Elisha, are one of the world's saviors. That is why you were created. To abscond with your very own fate. For not even I can read your fate."

Elisha felt the words ring though her ears. She understood, understood the life she held in her hands,  the way she shaped it.

Grind, pull, pour.

Grind, pull, pour.

Grind, pull, pour.

Or a destiny she could shape. A way to help and change the world for the better.

"I'm ready," she said as she noiselessly took the old man's hand.

"I'm ready to make a change in my destiny that will make everything better. Change the world for the better. I'm ready to shape my destiny for the better."

The man smiled, a smile that was like his laugh. A smile that seemed to be glazed with a sugary coat.

"We should be going soon. I grow tired, you grow weary, and the creator impatient. Welcome to a new life, Elisha."