The Sand Grains of Time

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Story for originalazrael's competition. It's a story of the typical picturized Grim Reaper doing his job.

A little grain of sand no bigger than a speck of dust edged across the glass edge and fell, joining its brothers at the bottom of the hourglass.
Ahh, how meaningless time is… I thought to myself as I gazed deeply into the transparent glass.
And yet these pitiless humans would give anything to have more of it. If only they knew how unimportant they were, how insignificant their life was.
I lifted my gaze from the hourglass and placed it back inside my cloak. I stood in a small little apartment that was as dark as the black shade of my cloak.
“I know you’re in here somewhere…” I muttered as I stepped further into the front room. It reeked of dust.
“Hmmm, just a little sadistic,” I sighed as I read the dripping blood on the wall.
I control my life and my death, it read. If I could smile I would have.
“You’re quite wrong in that statement my old friend,” I said to the air around me.
I moved further into the home to the bedroom. I reached my old bone hand to clasp the bronze handle and turned it. It creaked and whined at my touch.
I stood in the door frame and gazed into the room. This was the room with the only light. It came from an old lamp on the wooden bedside table. It cast the shadow of a man floating in the air against the far wall.
The shadow swung in a sort of circular motion like a ghost haunting a room, wandering aimlessly in a circle.
I reached a hand out and turned off the ceiling fan and the shadow slowly became still.
“Had to get one last carnival ride?” I asked the still figure. I scanned the body.
“Not a bad job, I say.”
I took a seat on the edge of the fallen chair and watched the body sway. I rested my trusted scythe against the bed.
“Where has your spirit gone my friend? Where is your soul?” I asked the body. The body turned in the air so it faced me, as if it was really going to respond.
The man’s lips were pale in colour almost hinting a shade of blue. The skin was chalky and pale and the eyes were closed. His head was bowed and I could see the light slightly glisten on what had been a growing bald spot amongst the man’s thin light brown hair. His white singlet was stained with drool and other markings.
“Not to offend, but I’m surprised the electrical cable could hold your weight.” The body swung away like it had been offended.
I sighed and stood up, my attention caught by the built-in robe on the wall where the man’s shadow was cast upon.
“Why must they hide? I asked myself as I stepped around the swinging body.
I heard the quivering that protruded from behind the doors and if I had eyes I would have rolled them. I reached forward and opened the door to find the man’s soul huddled in the fetal position on the floor of the robe.
“Come on old man,” I sighed and turned away to grab my scythe.
“There’s nothing to fear,” I mumbled. I stood before him and watched his brown glassy eyes stare up at me with terror.
“You’re not going to hell if that’s what you’re worried about. That place doesn’t exist and nor does heaven.” I shifted my grasp on my scythe so I held it with two hands and the man flinched and jumped so he cowered against the wall of the robe amongst the clothes.
“Would you relax,” I huffed, “It doesn’t hurt at all.” The man blinked at me and he became teary. I shook my head. Even the bravest became cowards in the end.
“Please…” The man begged in a hoarse voice, speaking for the first time. “Please, spare me.”
“Spare you? I think you misunderstood this situation. What did you think would happen when you died?” The man started to sob and took a deep breath. It was always the same with them. It didn’t matter how they died once they saw me they became animate to live again.
I wasn’t going to start an argument on the rules of the universe with this man. I lifted my scythe while he sobbed into his arm. The light from the lamp glistened against the silver curve of the sharpened end. With the quiet of a calm night I brought it down upon the man. Once the point touched his skin a bright light shown from him and when it disappeared it left only me standing in the built-in robe of a small apartment’s bedroom. I shut the doors of the built-in robe and turned around. The body swayed before me and when I looked into the man’s face for the last time it appeared that the body was frowning.
The deed was done and I pulled for the hourglass out from my clock. I gazed upon it with awe and as careful as possible like the hourglass was as delicate as a feather, I turned it over. The grains of sand fell rapidly to the bottom casting an image as they fell of a woman lying in a hospital bed.
Every grain fell until one last little grain no bigger than a speck of dust edged its way across the glass edge and fell, joining its brothers at the bottom of the hourglass.

Submitted: May 29, 2011

© Copyright 2020 Miss L. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



I liked how you wrote that, quiet interesting :)

Sun, May 29th, 2011 8:12am


Thank you. :S Though I had a dream about this story after I wrote it and it doesn't give me hope that it'll be good enough for the contest.

Sun, May 29th, 2011 10:03pm

M J Owen

Hey! did you win this competition might i ask? this is expertly written, with great thought going into the ideas. The our glass was a wonderful touch. you see if oftenly associated with old grim i find but you made it you unique and i pictured it with a little chain on, running from the hourglass to beneath his robe, as if it was a pocket watch. You should add that as it makes such a great image. Short and sweet, well done. If you get the time between writing great stories and what ever else you spend your spare time doing, check out my short 'Shackles', wont take you long and I think you may enjoy it. Thanks :)

Wed, May 23rd, 2012 3:21pm

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