The Hourglass of Time

As the light shone upon the early morning,

birds of new life began to sound their calls.

Through the window, the ground was glistening.

Now here I sat, enraptured by it all.

My frail, fragile body was wary thin.

Asylum, truly not identified.

I was not happy in this lonesome inn.

Oh, how I yearned to be outside.

As I stumbled towards the riverside,

my reflection shimmered without a sound.

This was the might of the hidden outside.

Sadly I could not stick around.

Chapter 0 - Opening

"As tears began to fill my eyes, my vision blurred, to the sound of cries. Spoken words, all a slur. Up I looked into the skies."

Before the likes of man came to know the minutes, the seconds, the hours of the fading days, mankind gazed up to the sun- the settling darkness enclosing the doors of ever past, and the doors opened of the new day. The fluidity of time flows in its ever-restless state. A day passed was a day to be remembered, for time waited for no one. There would never be another day like one’s own. Time persisted without break. Within it all, at its center, the birthstone, lies the Hourglass, a testament to time itself.

On such a journey, I encountered such a find when a slight change in the road threw me off course. I was lost and had yet to be found. My belt buckled across my waist, my handheld flask half empty. I was on the verge of giving up all hope. All my efforts in getting here seemed to be a waste as the sand blew across my cloth-strewn face and it grew steadily harder to breathe.

As stupid as I was, I decided to venture forth (despite my forewarnings) on such a barren, sanded path until a slight misstep led me truly astray. That moment was when I learned just how lost I truly was. I realized how large the world was and how small I looked in it all.

However, that wouldn’t be a very fun story to tell, wouldn’t it? So as the sun sets and sinks below the horizon once more, I write the story of the little things: how I came to see and appreciate the little things in life, both the highs and the lows. Shall we begin? Let me begin by saying it all began on an uncertain day when I met an uncertain someone. A stranger, to say the least, on the other side of the Hourglass of Time. This is a journey of no return. Feel free to tag along.

Chapter 1 - Uncertainty

"I looked down at the steps (the world) that lay before me, descending ever downwards, silently still, yet ever-present. There I stood. All was quiet; all was silent. I was overcome with one emotion: uncertainty. "

Snow fell. Lightly, gently, and delicately, they reminded me of the flower petals of spring. There was a beauty to be found in every one of them. Each snowflake, unique in its own manner, brought a sense of unison, a sense of love. They felt like one, like the lone individual who sat at the bus stop, alone. There he sat, as one.

Clear glass walls lay on all four sides. Each is blurry and dim in its own respect. From within, I could see the world outside. The snow-covered ground, the passing cars, as their headlights shine like stars in the fading light. It seemed as if no one rode the bus anymore, and I wondered if one would ever arrive.

I was not alone, however, as the falling snow kept me company. As surprising as it is to say, I was also not cold. In fact, I was warm as the thick tan-brown coat covered and warmed me. I felt at home, although I seemed so far away. So far from that small home on the side of the road. So far from family and the ones I loved. The dinner table, the lamp above, the conversation, and all the laughs. I had a home. I had a home, but the family I once had remained no more.

Time waited for no one.

Time waited for no one but me. Time gave me a life, feet to walk on, and a world ahead. But, it was all in a world I didn’t want to be in.

I just wanted to die.

A knitted, fuzzy cap rested against my head as light and as gentle as a bird’s nest. It too kept me warm. It too kept me company. The chirping of the birds, the crying of the crows, and the rising sun signal the start of the day. I can hardly remember the last time I waited for the rising sun. All those memories seemed to fade to grey.

There I sat, and there I waited, for I was in no haste. I was getting old, and my dreams and wishes slowly seemed to become permanent stories of my imagination. There were stories to be told, but truthfully, there was no one to tell them to.

As I sat in this lonesome booth, the snow continuing to fall, all I asked for was a friend. Someone to keep me company. A cup of tea; if only someone could stay to hear a story or two. Someone. Then I’d be on my merry way.

I reached inside my worn-out bag once more, grasping for a pen. I took out my notebook, unbounded the strap, and began to write once more.

Chapter 2 - Angel’s Tears

“For a moment, I was able to see clearer than ever through the blurriness, the fogged vision of tears. I saw something I hadn’t previously seen. I saw life and I couldn’t be happier."

I almost fell asleep when a sudden knocking occurred. I had a visitor.

Hunched over, my blurry vision tried to focus on the ground that lay before me, the soft snow against the hard surface of the ground that lay below. Truthfully, there was nothing to see. Snow still fell (as it did before), but it wasn’t like my hearing was good enough to hear the snow as it drifted and settled onto the concrete floor anyway. It was heartbreaking to see them fall, one by one, only to be run over by speeding cars seconds later. It felt wrong, to say the least. It all felt so slow. Within me, I could find no peace.

However, watching as each flake and "petal" fell to the ground, I couldn’t deny its presence. The words of the wind strung out in a lullaby, a melody just waiting to be sung. As the gentle winds blew, the sound of the breeze filled my ears. I did "feel" it in some way. It called to me.

I was surprised to learn that no bus had passed me by while I "slept." I was convinced its arrival would awaken me. The driver would probably call me a few times to ask if I was getting on or not. But I clearly didn’t. Now, whether I’d respond is another story.

It felt as if I had just closed my eyes when I was shaken by such a knock. It sounded light, gentle, and welcoming. I had no idea such beauty could be found in such a simple yet delicate gesture. The light tap on the glass sounded childlike. It felt carefree.

I blinked a few times, but my vision remained fuzzy.

"Mister, are you okay?"

I paused. The voice startled me as I kept my head down for a second longer.

"Mister?"

The voice was soft. The voice was kind, almost childlike.

"Mister, you seem really lonely?" the voice said in a concerned tone.

I sat in thought as I began to slowly lift my head once more. I was curious as to who it could possibly be on such a cold, snowy day. A certain excitement within me began to emerge, like a flicker or spark. Yet, I felt conflicted. Maybe I was better off alone.

"Umm, mister, are you dead?" A pause. I almost let out a chuckle, but couldn’t. I did, in fact, want to die. I find no purpose on this lonesome Earth anymore. Yet, it bothered me. Those words. They bothered me.

"My mom doesn’t like it when I leave the house alone. She says it’s dangerous. She says I’m too young, that I’ll get kidnapped, but then the snow was too beautiful for me to not want to come out and play. So I did. But then I saw you, and you seemed really lonely. So, well, here I am."

The voice seemed to die down, fading into the blowing wind. I felt a gentle hand across my shoulder, the outer layer of my coat. I felt uneasy. I felt cold. These were feelings I hadn’t felt before.

I was just beginning to find warmth in being alone, a sense of comfort. I was just beginning to come to terms with myself. Now I am less than alone. If anything, I felt less than whole.

Curiously staring at me from the corner of my eye was a girl no older than ten.

The world around me seemed to fall silent, completely silent.

------------------------------------------

Who was I? Where was I? At that moment, all my thoughts seemed to go lost. My words just disappeared as they parted my open mouth one by one. I couldn’t even make a sound.

They fell somewhere off into that growing, deepening snow, never to be found. Once lost, never to be found again.

I’d probably have to wait for the sun. It’d take the sun alright. A bright, shining, warm sun to melt that snow. Only then could my words be found.

But what even was the sun? What did the sun even mean to me? Did it even exist? Was there even a reason for me to care? All these passing years, even now, the sun just never seems to be there. As the sky began to darken once more, it seemed as though it was nearing its end.

I watched as the pages of another day closed. The bindings of the book were strewn shut. Another day. Another day. A day to be forgotten, a day to be remembered. It didn’t seem to matter either way.

"Go away! And leave me alone already!" I screamed out in pain as a tear began to form around my eye.

Silence.

"Go away! Go away," I cried, my voice becoming weaker and dimmer with each repetition.

Saying those words hurt me. Expressing those thoughts and feelings pained me. I just wanted it all to end.

But it was as if someone had stuck their foot between the doors upon closing. The door wouldn’t close. The pain wouldn’t go away.

It didn’t let me.

I began to cry. I couldn’t hold it in any longer: my pains, my sorrows, my feelings, my hurt. It all lived in this lifeless body of mine. They all lived in my lost and lonesome self.

I retreated back into myself as I began to stare blankly at the snow-covered floor once more. Those eyes, however, never left me. Pulling her hand back, I no longer felt the added weight on my shoulders anymore.

I felt alone once more. As I sat at this quiet bus stop, watching the snowfall, I listened to the cars as they passed by. Nothing seemed to change. However, this time, I wasn’t alone.

I turned my creaking head to see the girl that now sat beside me. She seemed frightened. She seemed startled. Staring off into the snow that lay below, she too seemed as if she was about to cry.

"Well, I really didn’t mean to bother you. You just seemed lonely. Like you could use some love, that’s all."

Her head low, she stood up. She began to make for the door from whence she came.

"I’m sorry. I really am."

As she reached the doorframe, she stopped.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye. It was really nice meeting you."

It sure was, I thought doubtfully.

A gentle smile crossed her face as she turned and looked back.

"Good luck!"

My head was downturned as she left, and tears began to part my eyes. It brought my attention to somewhere I hadn’t previously cared for. Between my fingertips, in my very own two hands, lay my notebook. The grainy texture between my fingertips.

As tears began to paint its aged and rusty cover, sudden words began to part my mouth. My head cleared. I called out.

"Would you care to hear a story?"

I soon learned she hadn’t gone far.

Chapter 3 - Final Destination

"For I was lost, and I was yet to be found."

(Date unknown-Notebook)

Taking a seat beside me, I soon learned her name. What a beautiful name it was. Her name was Hope.

She stared at my notebook with wide, curious eyes. It almost seemed as if she’d never seen a notebook before, a clear and significant sign of a shift in the times.

All was quiet. It made me sad.

"What are you going to show me, Mister?"

A story, I thought to myself. A story.

Within me, I watched as my heart wrenched and sank with guilt. The story I was yet to tell was none other than my own, which I doubted she could relate to. Hope was still young and innocent in the face of death. Yet, due to her curiosity, I began to tell my story anyway. That would be a decision I would soon come to regret.

Or so it seemed.

Opening my already unbounded notebook, I replied, "I’m going to tell the story of a boy named Winston." She looked up curiously and with a newfound light. "He wanted it all. He wanted it all just to have it all be . . ." I paused. Lost. Lost was the next word. Lost in an instant, to lose it all. To have it all go up in flames. Somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to say that word.

As hard as I tried, it just wouldn’t come out.

I had lost it all. I had lost my entire family. I had lost it all for me to run and hide, hoping to never turn back. I tried. I really did, but I couldn’t keep myself from looking back at the days when the sun seemed to shine so brightly and the earth spun so restlessly.

I’d think of them.

Where were those days? Were they anywhere to be found?

All I had was a barren, empty, lifeless home I didn’t find any purpose in returning to and a family that wouldn’t laugh even when I cracked my funniest joke. Even as I tried to feel their presence beside me once more, they were gone.

They just weren’t there.

I felt a sudden tap on my shoulder. I had probably blanked out. Staring back at me were the same two concerned eyes.

"Did you mean to say lost?"

As those words overcame me, I was left in a shock like no other. My thoughts just parted my mind, taking a vacation to some faraway land never to return. But I was okay with it. After all these years, I came to accept it.

After all those years of being lost, I felt found. I felt understood. A piece of life came back to me, and a certain confidence filled me.

I felt alive.

For the first time in nearly never, someone could read me, my thoughts, and my emotions. I felt redeemed. I could feel a sense of calm.

I wanted to go home. Wherever it was, I wanted to go home.

------------------------------------------

Staring out the glass windows, the walls that surrounded and protected me once more, I searched to see if a bus would arrive to take me home. However, all I saw were passing cars, their headlights flashing in the dimming light as snow continued to fall. There was no bus in sight.

"Snowfall really does get boring, doesn’t it?" Hope complained.

I couldn’t disagree as I sat and nodded.

"Aren’t you going to go home?" I asked.

"Oh, I’m in no rush."

"Alright," I responded, "Whatever you say."

She smiled.

As the sky grew progressively darker, I felt I had to be on my merry way or it’d be too late. The bus didn’t seem like it’d arrive in a hundred years, and after sitting at that bus stop for so long, I’d given up. I was going home.

I couldn’t wait for the new day. The sun was now nearly gone, as the moon rose high into the sky to where the sun once stood. There it glowed in all its beauty. With the glistening of the stars and the gentle wind, I could see fireflies, another product of my imagination.

I couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Bag across my waist, notebook in hand, I stood up and I was off.

Off I went, but I couldn’t go far. Sadly, time had caught up with me. Just when I saw the glowing daylight, my time was up. Taking a few steps forward, I felt my legs shaking as I began to collapse backward.

My legs had given out. My time was up.

Up I looked into the newborn sky above me as droplets of rain began to fall upon my face. With each droplet brushing against my skin, I felt cold.

It only took me a second to figure out that those droplets weren’t rain but instead Hope’s tears. She had tried to catch me.

I guess I really didn’t go far.

A sense of joy and laughter began to fill me as Hope’s face hovered over me. I felt ridiculous. My decisions had cost me my life.

My body growing ever weaker, I brought up my right arm. Notebook in hand, I tried handing it to her. "Take it," I said, for I couldn’t keep my arm up for long.

For all I cared, I had probably fractured my head.

She took it, and at that moment, everything began to change. Her once black hair began to turn into a golden orange-yellow as it flared out like the sun.

The snow around me began to melt as the puddles of water began to soak my coat. There she looked at me, speechless. In her eyes, I could see my family. They had never left me. They had always been there for me in my highs and lows. I had just failed to see it through.

As the words buried beneath the snow came back to me, I worked at my final words, only to soon discover that it’d be my dying breath.

Out came a puff of air as tears continued to fall across my face. My arms were too weak to wipe them off.

"Mister, please don’t go, please." She was begging. She wouldn’t leave.

Her cries broke my heart, but my heart beat no more.

Somewhere off in the distance, I heard the screeching of tires. It sounded so foreign yet recognizable as it came to a complete stop.

The bus I had waited so long for had arrived.

Epilogue - 8 years later

"You getting on?" the bus driver called as the doors of the bus opened.

"Give me a second, alright? I’ll be on in a second."

Tossing some coins into the slot, she made her way to the back of the bus, noticing just how empty it was.

"Where is everyone?"

"No one rides the bus anymore, miss. Where you headed? I’ll be your taxicab. Just tell me where you’re headed and we’ll be off."

Grasping the yellow handlebar that lay at the center of the bus, she turned slowly as a smile began to cross her face.

"Home," she said. "Home."

As she took a seat at the back of the bus, she looked out the window. The sun was shining up in the sky. Birds flew, as the clouds rolled in. As they passed parks and bridges, she could hear the laughter of the children, smiles strung across their faces.

Reaching into her dark blue leather handbag, she reached for the object she knew was there.

As she slowly withdrew her hand from the bag, she looked down at what lay on her lap between her fingertips. Holding it up to the light, she smiled.

Between her fingertips lay a worn-out notebook, enclosed with a fraying strap. It was surely getting old, or as they called it, "well-loved" in common parlance.

Running her finger underneath the strap that once bound it, she took out a pen from her pocket, opened it to a "fresh," blank page, and began to write once more.