<b><i>HOURGLASS</i></b>
You wake up on a bed of yellow sand. You sit up and shake the sand out of your tangled hair, and it flutters down to the terracotta jacket crumpled on your lap.
The sun is sinking to the west, pulling the blue of the sky along with it. Your limbs are stiff from hours of sleep, but you drag yourself to your feet, the sand falling away from you like confectioner's sugar dusted off a crinkle.
Questions tumble around your head, but there is no one for miles around to answer them.
[[Walk toward the setting sun.]]
[[Search the sand around you for answers.]]
Your footsteps raise up yellow clouds, making for a hazy path, yet you continue marching on.
Even though the sun sinks lower with every minute, the heat still beats down on your exposed arms. If someone cracked an egg on top of your head, it would fry in seconds and make for a delicious meal.
[[Put on your jacket to protect your sunburnt arms.]]
[[Pull your jacket over your head to prevent your hair from frying.]]
You dig the sand with cupped hands, the sun sinking lower all the while. Soon it will be impossible to see anything, but you go on, not really knowing what it is you're searching for.
Your fingers close over something miniscule and delicate. You pick it up. It's an empty hourglass. You fiddle with it, and the top cap falls off. Without thinking, you fill it up with yellow sand. When the hourglass is half full, you screw the top back on.
You hope it will be of some use. You stash the hourglass into your jeans pocket just as darkness envelops you.
[[Night has fallen.]]
The darkness is punctuated by a muffled beating. You're wondering whether the sand is the skin of a giant nocturnal creature only now stirring awake, when suddenly — a howl.
The howling multiplies, raising the hair on the back of your neck.
<i>Creatures</i>, not creature.
[[Stay still and silent.]]
[[Run.]]
An hour passes, and yet the scenery has not changed even a little bit. There are no miraculous oases or sudden towns to provoke a sigh of relief. Your path is so engulfed in the yellow smoke raised by your scuffling feet that it takes a while for you to notice the storm heading straight toward you.
You raise your jacketed arms to protect your eyes and urge your legs to keep moving forward, blind as you are. The farther you can move away from where you stand, the sooner you can be free of the whirling sand.
[[The storm will pass.]]
An hour passes, and yet the scenery has not changed even a little bit. There are no miraculous oases or sudden towns to provoke a sigh of relief. Your path is so engulfed in the yellow smoke raised by your scuffling feet that it takes a while for you to notice the storm heading straight toward you.
The jacket flies from your head. You've heard that deserts can be freezing at night, so you rush forward and manage to catch it by the sleeve. The jacket keeps flying away, but you hold firmly on. You feel your feet leaving the sand, feel your hand trembling as if you are holding on to the tail of — no, that's impossible.
Your eyes are screwed shut against the whipping sand. You have no idea where you'll be when you open your eyes again.
[[When the sandstorm recedes, you open your eyes.]]
The sandstorm rages on, behind you now. You're safe, and the sky is clear. You stare straight at the sun as you continue journeying toward it. You wonder why it doesn't hurt your eyes.
You are still musing about this when a voice behind you says, "Help me."
[[You turn around.]]
Now you see that your jacket has morphed into a giant bird.
Your arm is beginning to ache terribly from holding on, so with an enormous effort you manage to clamber onto a more secure position. You grab the bird's terracotta feathers to keep from sliding off.
It's a sparrow the size of an elephant.
The sparrow gives a mighty chirp, and suddenly you catch a glimpse of your face staring back at you — the same startled expression — then a deafening
[[THUD!]]
You curl up into yourself to muffle your pounding heart and your quickening breaths.
But the breathing is all around you now. Heavy. Hungry. Gathering into a circle — you as the center. Musing on the best way to finish you off.
From behind you, a menacing growl as one of the creatures lunges forward to attack.
[[Beat the beast away with your jacket.]]
[[Blind the beast with a fistful of sand.]]
You bolt, pumping your legs as hard as you can. But you can't seem to move fast enough — it's like you're running in slow motion, or waist-deep through water.
Something nips at your heels, and you cry out as your boot is dragged off. You stumble, falling painfully to your knees. Teeth gnash at your back, not breaking your skin but managing to yank off your jacket.
You lay there, frantic and gasping. Then the beasts pounce.
[[Blood stains your jeans pocket as teeth sink into your hip.]]
You strike as if you are holding a whip instead of a simple jacket, and the beast stumbles backward, whimpering. A second beast surges forward to take its place, but with another lash of your jacket, you also manage to beat it back.
Growling, the beasts scurry away from you. To your surprise, after a sharp bark from the beast positioned in front of the pack, they all spin around and take off once more into the impenetrable night.
You're shaken, but [[you've miraculously survived your first night unscathed.]]
Your nails dig into the sand just as teeth dig into the back of your hand.
Then a terrible rending — skin tearing, nerves ripping, fangs crunching down on wrist bone.
Then a mighty crack.
[[Then your mind swims, and everything turns a blissful black.]]
You wake up inside an unfamiliar room — tiny, cramped, heavy with the smell of burning wax, but at least you're lying on a soft bed and covered in warm blankets.
You try to sit up, but pain immediately shoots up your wrist and shudders all the way to your shoulder. You push away the blankets with your left hand, and you find yourself staring at a bloody, bandaged stump where your right hand used to be.
An old woman, magnificently wrapped in a heavy patchwork shawl of clashing pastel colors, bustles into the room. Without a word, she hands you the cloth napkin tucked into the dinner tray atop the bedside table.
[[That's when you realize you're bawling as pathetically as an overgrown baby.]]
Alone now, you stare wonderingly at the jacket in your arms. It seems to shimmer in the moonlight and radiate warmth under your questioning gaze.
You sense that nights in this desert are dangerous, so you pull on the shimmering terracotta jacket and begin your meandering journey [[onward.]]
You manage to bash the first beast away with your fist, but another has now clamped down on your leg. Your hands scrabble at the sand, trying futilely to pull yourself away, but the beast, which you first think a common wolf, now stands on its hind legs, revealing its formidable height — twice as tall as an average human being. You dangle in the air, waiting to be swallowed whole, to be torn into enough pieces to feed the entire pack — something, anything, as long as death is swift and easy.
You dangle for the length of several heartbeats before realizing that the beast has inexplicably ceased its attack. You kick its muzzle with your uninjured leg, and it releases you. You fall painfully on your bleeding hip, but you force yourself to get up and limp away as fast as your maimed leg will allow.
Nothing pursues you. But you know that no matter what enchantment this is, magic always wears off soon enough.
[[Keep running.]]
[[Look back at your enemies.]]
Your face smashes against an invisible barrier. The sparrow flies on — up and away — but you are left behind, motionless in the air for just a second, then you tumble back down, shooting straight toward the yellow sand miles and miles below.
[[You scream with all the terror of a skydiver sans parachute.]]
It's a little girl.
"I can't find it," she whimpers. She is wearing red overalls and digging at the sand with a little red shovel and a matching red pail. Though she piles the displaced sand into the pail, it is filled to the brim, overflowing, sand tumbling right back into the hole she's trying futilely to make.
"Help me," she says again, her eyes filling up with tears.
[[Help the little girl.]]
[[Say sorry and move on.]]
You crouch next to her. "What are you looking for?" you ask her.
She moves her mouth, but no sound comes out.
"What?"
She moves her lips again, but you still can't hear her. You're starting to feel uneasy about this whole business.
[[Help the little girl dig the hole.]]
[[Say sorry and move on.]]
"I have to go," you explain.
"Where are you going?" the little girl asks you.
"To the sun."
"Where is that?"
You point to it.
"Oh, oh! Can I go too?"
[[Take her with you.]]
[[Tell her it's a journey you need to take alone.]]
You pick up the full pail and empty it some distance away. The little girl continues to dig with her shovel, while you begin to dig with her pail. You work away in silence until the sky is tinged with orange. The little girl never does explain what she's looking for, but she whispers instructions from time to time.
You sit back on your heels to wipe off the sweat on your brow, and that's when you realize that the hole is perfectly rectangular. Six-feet deep.
Then you feel two tiny hands on your back. Before you know it, you are tumbling down, down, [[down.]]
You try to take her hand, but she pulls away and shows you that her hands are full with the shovel in one hand and the pail in the other.
"Leave them," you tell her. "You don't need those where we're going."
So she leaves them behind on the sand. She places her sticky hand in yours.
[[Now it's time to move on.]]
"It's dangerous. You should stay here. Where are your parents?"
But the little girl has lost all interest in you. She resumes her digging. She hums a lullaby to herself, and you don't know why, but it sounds vaguely familiar.
"Well, I'll be off then," you tell her.
"Bye, bye forever," she sings to you.
[[Bye, bye forever.]]
And then you reach the sun.
It's not at all like you pictured it would be. It hangs right in front of your face, so close that you can touch it.
You want to touch it.
[[Do.]]
[[Don't.]]
Your fingers touch paper. A sticker. You feel the edges of the sticker sun, then you peel it off with one clean motion.
You find yourself staring right into your own eyes.
You reach up to trace your face with your fingers, but the mirror cracks and falls into pieces.
The sand beneath you rumbles, and you pitch forward to the great [[beyond.]]
You step back and silently watch as the sun sinks in earnest now — from the level of your head, down to your shoulders, down to your knees, down to your toes. It hits the sand with a gentle bump, tilts sideward, spins around once, then falls down flat, just like a coin.
That's when curiosity gets the better of you. You crouch down to pick up the sun. When you touch it, the flat surface sinks slightly, then swells back up against your hand. That's when it hits you.
[[The sun is a button.]]
[[Relive the dream in the hourglass.->START]]
You tumble around once and fall flat on your back. Winded by the impact, you can't move for a second, and are rewarded with a mouthful of sand. You sit up, spitting and gasping.
Perched on the mouth of the freshly dug hole, the little girl giggles. She tips another full pail over, and you shield yourself with your arms as sand rains down on your head.
[[The rain of sand never seems to end.]]
The sand weighs down on your arms and legs, burying you with the force of wet cement. You are helpless as the sand wedges into your ears, your nose, your eyes.
You do not experience a series of flashbacks the length of a feature film — no such thing. The last image in your head is that of the little girl as she murmured the answer to your question.
Of course. How obvious.
What she was looking for. [[What you are all looking for.->beyond.]]
Hand in hand, you walk together until you see a strange little place, some kind of run-down souvenir shop. Without a word, the little girl blitzes toward the ramshackle structure to explore.
Sighing, you follow her inside. A bell pings as you push the door open. You catch a glimpse of the little girl's red mary janes before she disappears into one of the rooms.
You glance around. It's a shop filled with clocks. Boxy grandfather types, intricate wall contraptions. Pocket watches, wrist watches.
"Hello?" you call out. No answer.
[[Explore the shop some more.]]
[[Find the little girl.]]
You stand at a table lined with expensive-looking pocket watches. You're tracing gold chains and admiring painted numbers when something tugs at your leg.
It's the little girl, squealing with excitement. "Come look at this!"
She drags you into the next room, where you encounter the biggest clock you have ever seen. The entire wall makes up the face of the clock, and the numbers are twice as big as your head. But though the rest of the clocks in the shop are fully functional, the giant clock's second hand is jerking in place, seemingly stuck.
"Fix it!" the little girl demands.
[[Try to fix the giant clock.]]
[[Insist that it's time to leave.]]
You walk into the next room and encounter a teenager sitting on a black vinyl couch. Her boots parked atop a coffee table littered with beer cans, she's fingering a nose ring and blowing out smoke rings at the same time. Her eyes are insolent as they gaze at you.
"Where's the little girl?" you ask her.
"Dunno what you're talkin' about."
"You know, the girl who just ran in here? Dressed all in red?"
She shrugs, her heavily lined eyes already shifting away from your face.
When the girl starts riffling through a punk-themed magazine on the coffee table — provoking a mini avalanche of beer cans in the process — you know [[the conversation is over.]]
The law of gravity is broken as the world is inverted. You fall up into the sky. You hurtle into clouds and emerge healed and purified.
Thousands of miles down, you see that a bed of yellow sand awaits you. Your journey has been endless, and you need this place to rest.
[[The hourglass has completed its turn.->beyond.]]
As you drop nearer and nearer to your certain death, your body somersaults along with your wild heart and your wilder head.
Frantically, you wonder whether you should crash [[face-first]] or [[feet-first]] into the sand. You wonder which option will give you better chances of survival.
You search the entire shop for the little girl. Resisting the urge to admire the craftsmanship of fine clockwork, you instead open dusty cupboards and peer under low tables. But the little girl is nowhere to be found.
You return to the room with the vinyl couch, but find that the chain-smoking teenager has mysteriously vanished as well.
Thoroughly confused, you leave the shop and continue your solitary journey toward the setting sun.
Footstep after silent footstep. You feel a little lonely, but perhaps that's how it should be — [[a lonely journey over unchanging scenery.->Bye, bye forever.]]
You search the right edge of the wall for the crown of the clock, which you should be able to twist to adjust the time. But you don't find any crown.
So you reach for the second hand itself and try to push it down.
It shudders underneath your hand, then suddenly spins counterclockwise so fast it almost sprains your wrist. You jump backward, watching in horror as the second hand resembles the whirring blade of an industrial fan.
[[All around you, the hands of clocks around the room begin to spin backward too.->blur.]]
"Let's go," you say firmly, reaching for the little girl's hand, but she shrieks and jerks away from you. She lurches toward the giant clock instead and yanks down the second hand before you can stop her.
There is a screeching sound as the second hand is pulled counterclockwise, followed by a whirring all around the room. You watch in horror as all the hands of all the clocks spin backward so fast they begin to [[blur.]]
Suddenly, you lose control over your body, and you feel yourself being dragged backward like a rag doll. You are pulled by an unseen hand out of the shop, then backward over your old path on the yellow sand. Your footsteps disappear one by one.
For a moment, you are stuck beside the discarded red shovel and red pail. That's when you realize that you have no idea where the little girl is.
Then you are pulled backward again. You are engulfed in a sandstorm and emerge cleaner than before.
A few more disappearing footsteps, then you pull off your jacket and curl up on the sand to [[sleep.->beyond.]]
You flip over in midair a number of times to ensure your face will strike the sand first. You're almost there now, when it suddenly occurs to you how impossibly idiotic you must be to actually believe that bashing your skull can improve your chances of survival.
You're close enough to count the grains of sand when something suddenly yanks at your ankle. You're lifted up again, then thrown off almost immediately afterward. You tumble over the sand and land painfully on your buttocks.
The bruising on your behind is nothing minor, but you're miraculously alive and unbroken.
[["You're an especially moronic human being, you know that?" a voice tuts.]]
You land with your legs sinking right into the pillowy sand, but the angle is all wrong. You hear two muffled cracks, and the accompanying pain is so blinding you nearly pass out.
Crippled and exhausted, you kept drifting off, but you're terrified that if you fall asleep now, you won't ever wake up again. You pinch yourself and babble nonsense out loud just to stay awake.
[[The night is cold.]]
It's the giant sparrow, come back to save your life.
You explain, "Something stopped me. Some kind of barrier."
"You mean humans can't get through the glass?" the sparrow chirps. "What astonishingly useless creatures you are!"
"Glass? Why can <i>you</i> get through the glass then?"
"That's because <i>I</i> am a bird, while you, my dear, are not."
[[For all the sparrow's haughtiness, it offers you the support of its wing when you try painfully to stand up.]]
"Thank you," you tell the sparrow. "I'd be dead if you hadn't come back for me."
It withdraws its wing immediately and spreads its feathers like a decorative fan over its blushing face.
"Mister —"
"Miss," the sparrow corrects.
"Miss Sparrow, where do I go from here?"
[["Onward," Miss Sparrow replies.]]
So onward you go. A year passes. Then ten. Then a hundred. Then it doesn't matter, not anymore.
"Miss Sparrow, why does the sun never set? Why do my feet never tire? Why do I never grow old?"
"Do you really want to know?"
[["Yes."]]
[["No."]]
"It's easy," says the sparrow. "Go back to the beginning, and you'll see that you already have all the answers right in your hands."
So you close your eyes and [[remember->beyond.]].
So you walk on, side by side, for more centuries, or millennia, or eons, who knows which.
Then you ask another question. "When does this end?"
"Do you really want to know?"
You are far too tired now to say no.
So the sparrow envelops you in her wings. Her embrace is without light or air. [[You close your eyes gratefully.->beyond.]]
You can't shop shivering. You reach out instinctively for your jacket, but then you remember that it has morphed into a mammoth bird that has flown off and left you behind.
Wait, that didn't really happen, did it? Now you're just being ridiculous.
[[Despite your best efforts, you fall asleep, your body still half upright, half buried in sand.]]
An oddly muffled clicking jerks you awake. Disoriented, you jump up from the sand, your shoulder colliding almost immediately with an unseen barrier. That's when it occurs to you that you're standing straight, legs uninjured.
You bend your knees and wriggle your ankles, marveling at the absence of pain.
You glance up when you notice the erratic tapping sound again, and what you see shocks you so much that you begin to scream, though you clap your hand over your mouth at once.
[[The monster hasn't heard you.]]
You attempt to make a getaway, but you quickly realize that the unseen barrier forms a tight circle around you. You can walk three steps at most before bumping against it.
You glance again at the monster, willing yourself to remain calm.
That's when you notice that the monster is a human. A girl, albeit a thousand times bigger. She's hunched over and typing. Her fat white cheeks resemble bobbing snowballs as she chews on a crinkle the size of her fist.
For a giant, she looks surprisingly harmless. But then again, any creature that can eat a cookie that huge can certainly swallow you in a single gulp.
[[Seek help from the giant.]]
[[Hide yourself in the sand before the giant sees you.]]
"Hello?" you say loudly, knocking on the barrier. "Hello, Miss Giantess? I need some help."
The giant still doesn't hear you, so you start shouting and pounding on the glass until the thing you're trapped in — whatever it is — starts rocking.
She finally looks up. Her mouth drops open, and the remaining half of her cookie falls <i>splat</i> on her lap.
She gets up, looming over you. She'll save you!
She picks up the glass prison and flips it over and over again like a toy. With every new tremor of the terrible quake, you're pitched around helplessly on the sand. You heave your insides countless times, until finally you [[sink into blissful oblivion.->beyond.]]
You hold your breath, close your eyes, and bury deep into the sand. You count the seconds that trickle past just to calm yourself down.
Oddly, the pain seems to be returning to your legs, flaring with a vengeance. You screw your eyes tighter shut, but the pain won't go away.
You open your eyes, back in the desert again.
[[But you aren't alone.]]
A giant sparrow looms over you, its beady black eyes staring right at you.
"Oh, you shouldn't have woken," it chirps. "I didn't want it to hurt."
"Hurt?" you echo. The burning in your lower body is so terrible you can barely register anything else.
"But I can see you're already in crippling agony," the sparrow tuts. "Perhaps you desire that I relieve that?"
[[Its beak opens impossibly wide. Perhaps the sparrow is right, and relief may indeed be found in the deep dark recesses of its throat.->beyond.]]
You keep limping away from the scene of attack. You cover perhaps a mile of unchanging sand, when your knees finally give way, and you collapse.
Though you want more than anything to sleep, you force yourself to sit up. You tear off a sleeve of your shirt and dress the wounds on your leg and on your hip. The sudden bareness of your left arm provokes a shiver, but there's nothing you can do to warm yourself — you've left behind your jacket, as well as one of your boots, in your haste to get away.
You're miserably wondering whether you'll survive the night in this state, when suddenly a bobbing light in the distance catches your attention.
[[Lay flat on the sand, and hope that the source of mysterious light — whatever it is — will spare you from more trouble.]]
[[Follow the light.]]
You turn around. The beasts are still poised — motionless — in various positions of attack.
After a moment's hesitation, you creep back and stand in front of one of them. You wave your hand before its snout. It doesn't even twitch in response.
Still, you tread softly as you retrieve your discarded boot and jacket. Your bare foot collides with something tiny and cold, which rolls and clinks against the claws of one of the frozen beasts.
You hold your breath, but when the beast doesn't stir, you crouch down to pick up the mysterious object.
[[It's the hourglass, fallen from your pocket.]]
In this cramped, stuffy room, days trickle past. But night never leaves you. The single window on the wall perpetually yields a patch of blackest black.
The old woman replaces the stubs of spent candles. She wraps clean bandages over your soaked ones. You don't ask her who she is or where you are or how you got here.
One day, she presses something small and cold onto your palm. The hourglass from the sand. In a fit of rage, you throw it to the wall, but your strength is so drained it clatters to the floor, not far from the foot of your bed.
[[The old woman stoops down and gives you the hourglass again.]]
As you sit there — doing nothing, feeling nothing, desiring nothing — the old woman sits beside you and darns another pastel patchwork shawl. With one arm, she smooths out the wrinkles with her elbow, and with the other arm, she digs in with a very pointy needle. She hums as she works.
"The joy of creation, you understand?" she says to you, but you only stare blankly.
The old woman only appears wistful when her eyes fall on the hourglass on your bedside table.
[[You never turn the hourglass. The sand is still.]]
The skin has started to grow back over your wound.
Your fingers scrabble to reopen the wound. You would rather suffer fresh pain every day than get used to the absence of your hand.
The old woman stops you with hers.
"This is a great healer," she whispers. [[She glances at the hourglass again.]]
You are staring out the familiar black hole on the wall when you feel something warm envelop your shoulders.
"This is a gift for you," the old woman says.
The pastel patches are satiny soft against your skin. You are overcome with the overwhelming desire to sleep. Sleep until your troubles leave you. Sleep forever.
"I must go," the old woman whispers.
[[Give the old woman the hourglass.]]
[[Simply thank her and let her go.]]
The old woman gasps as you press the hourglass onto her palm. "I cannot, my dear. This is too much —"
"You must."
She takes your hand in both of hers and thanks you fervently. It is the first time she has fully withdrawn her right arm from the voluminous folds of her patchwork shawl. You see that the skin has healed, clean and white and bloodless, over the stump where her right hand used to be.
Then the old woman is gone.
She was much wiser than you. You need not worry. Swathed in the shawl, [[you sink gladly into oblivion.->beyond.]]
The old woman nods. With a swish of her shawl, she is gone.
And then you sleep. You sleep for days.
You awake to sunlight pouring on your face. Your stomach is churning horribly, so for the first time, you venture out of the room and into the kitchen. It is unquestionably difficult to cook with only one hand, but the resulting cinnamon porridge has never tasted so delicious.
And so begins your peaceful, solitary life in the little cottage. Years pass. Your hair turns white. Skin heals over your wound. It stops hurting.
[[But you have not forgotten. You only need to close your eyes for the memories to besiege you again.->beyond.]]
You travel a mile or two in the creeping darkness before you allow yourself to rest. You rip off a sleeve of your shirt to wrap around the wounds on your hip and on your leg.
You examine the hourglass in the moonlight. You turn it over in your fingers, but the sand is stuck, seemingly clumped together in a tarry substance.
Then you realize that you didn't screw the cap securely enough earlier, and that the black substance is your own blood. You refill the hourglass with fresh sand then screw the cap back on. You give the hourglass a few shakes to ensure it's no longer stuck.
You hear a howl in the distance, so you get up and [[continue your journey away from the sound.]]
The sun is just rising when you encounter the peddler, who is smoking a pipe whilst seated grandly atop a glittering giant sea turtle.
"Oh!" the peddler exclaims at once, the pipe tumbling down the shell to land on the sand. "In your pocket, can that possibly be . . . the hourglass that stops and starts time?
"Indeed." Pain sears in your hip, and you eye the turtle's broad jeweled shell with longing.
The peddler clambers down to retrieve the pipe, packs it with yellow sand, and looks shrewdly up at you. "How about a trade then?" the peddler says, blowing sandcastles from the pipe. "Your hourglass for my giant turtle. He's a slow and steady fellow, can take you anywhere you need to go."
[["Deal."]]
[["No deal."]]
You climb on top of the turle's jewel-encrusted shell.
Hourglass tucked into tunic, the peddler tells you, "Press an emerald to go forward. Ruby to stop. Topaz to slow down — I never use that. You'll see. Tarthur's as slow as they come. Trusty, though." The peddler scuffs the turtle affectionately on its head, and it grunts in reply.
Then you and the peddler part ways.
Perched on top of Tarthur's massive back, the gentle rhythm of his slow-motion steps lulls you into dreamless slumber.
[[You awake to a menacing growling all around you.]]
"Then perhaps my myriad other wares will suit your fancy?" The peddler catches one of the sandcastle bubbles, stretches it wide with gloved hands, and ushers you in through the handsome double doors.
The labyrinthine castle holds wondrous passageways and secret doors, but the peddler pushes past tricorns and leprechaun gold, past shimmering stardust and Narcissus who falls into a pool — all of these are foregone in favor of a box that shudders in your arms. A demon slithers out from under the flaps, and with a cackle, races out of sight.
"Wrong box," the peddler mutters. "That's Pandora's."
Another box is shoved into your arms. "This is the best I have to offer," says the peddler. "This box contains all your deepest desires."
[[Trade the hourglass for the box of deepest desires.]]
[[Keep the hourglass.]]
You've slept through the day, and night has fallen again. Twelve beasts pace in a circle around you, but Tarthur keeps impassively moving forward.
The beasts seem to weave closer with each second. They maintain a perfect circle, but the circle gets smaller and smaller.
[[Press the emeralds to urge Tarthur faster.]]
[[Attempt a jump for the sand beyond the circle of beasts.]]
Your fingers jab at all the emeralds within reach, but Tarthur's pace doesn't hasten. He plows on as slowly as ever.
The beasts are now so close that their fur brushes against the edges of Tarthur's shell, but to your amazement, they don't attempt to jump or climb up.
<i>Slow and steady</i>, the peddler said before leaving. <i>Trusty, though. Tarthur can take you anywhere you need to go.</i>
"Onward, Tarthur," you say loudly. "Onward, safely. Slow and steady."
[[You'll win this race.->beyond.]]
Keeping your legs apart for balance, you stand on top of the shell. You were planning to move to the edge for a running start, but the shell is so lumpy with gems that you can't risk blundering across its surface.
You can't do anything, really, but jump.
At that exact moment, one of the beasts lunges forward to clamp its teeth down on Tarthur's neck. Tarthur rears his head back in agony, catching your foot mid-jump.
So you fall short, and end up sprawling right in the midst of the beasts. [[They tear your limbs apart, then leave, for last, your heart.->beyond.]]
The peddler swiftly inserts the hourglass you offer into a pocket. With a crisp snap of fingers, the peddler transports you both back to the desert.
The peddler clambers up the giant turtle, and they set off at once, without sparing a backward glance. You watch as they disappear into the horizon like a dream.
Then you turn your attention to the box in your arms. You set it down on the sand and pry its lid open.
Your heart leaps as you catch a glimpse of the thing you've been dreaming of for so long, with a fire that has threatened to engulf you —
[[Then it crumbles into sand, along with the box, then mingles with the wind, and is gone.->beyond.]]
"Thought you'd say that," the peddler drawls, "so I enlisted the help of a little fiend."
The cackling demon from Pandora's box pounces out of nowhere. You manage with difficulty to throw it off. It lands on the peddler's shoulder and slips the hourglass into the peddler's breast pocket. With that, the peddler whirls around and runs. You set off in pursuit.
But the peddler is agile. You soon find yourself lost in the labyrinthine castle, the peddler nowhere in sight.
You're looking wildly around when you hear a familiar cackling. "Better hurry," the demon giggles. "Once the peddler pops the bubble, all of this —including you — will dissolve into sand."
[[Threaten the demon to show you the exit of the sandcastle.]]
[[Keep looking around for a way out.]]
You grab the demon and slam it against the wall. The wall crumbles suddenly into sand, and the force of your shove pitches the both of you off the edge of the sandcastle. Eyes wide in terror, you and the demon end up clutching each other as you scream for your lives.
You fall rolling on the sand and bump against the peddler's legs. You look up at the peddler's face and watch as the triumph there transforms into shock. Before the peddler can react, the demon leaps up and snatches back the hourglass.
The demon gives it to you, and you bow in thanks — your common brush with disaster has inexplicably united you.
"Let's see," you muse aloud. "How many times do I need to turn this thing to go back to the day before you were born?"
[[You hear the demon cackling in glee as you give the hourglass a turn.->beyond.]]
You rummage desperately through all the fantastic knick knacks in sight. No good.
Inside one of the rooms, you find a queen admiring herself in front of a magic mirror. Despite her protests, you shove her aside.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall," you chant, "show me the peddler."
And the mirror reflects the peddler back in the desert. You watch in horror as the peddler, with a deliberate slowness, pricks the sandcastle bubble with a single finger, and —
The peddler lived happily ever after. [[The end.->beyond.]]
Taking care not to get too close, you creep behind the light as it continues its steady journey toward an unknown destination.
Soon enough, you see plenty more lights ahead. These new lights remain still. As you get closer to the mass of lights, you now see that the first light comes from a torch carried by a man riding a camel. You consider revealing yourself to him, but you decide not to. Though by now you are exhausted beyond belief, you continue following silently.
Finally, you reach the mass of lights — more torches, high up on posts to illuminate a sleeping town.
The lethargy must be infectious. [[You drop down.]]
Your prone position on the sand makes you drift off in no time.
But sleep offers no relief, as you are plagued with many troubled dreams featuring razor-sharp teeth.
When you wake up, your entire body aches terribly. You realize that your tossing and turning have displaced the sloppily tied cloth around your leg, and your wound has reopened. The sand beneath you is black with spilled blood. You tend to your leg as well as you can. You also replace the soaked red cloth over your hip wound.
With another sleeve of your shirt torn off, you face an [[even colder night ahead.]]
You wake to see several faces peering down at you. When you sit up, the townsfolk back away, fearful.
"Followed me all the way here!" says the man with the camel. "Suspicious, I tell ya."
Your head is still spinning, but you endeavor to explain your side of the story. "Beasts. In the desert. They attacked."
A collective intake of breath. "The Ravages?" says a townsman. "What did they take from you? A hand? A leg?"
"Don't be foolish," says a townswoman. "This child clearly has all body parts intact."
"The beasts did take my jacket," you pipe up, "and my left boot."
[["Perhaps the Ravages do not like the taste of your flesh," a townsman suggests.]]
A compassionate townsman takes you in. He gives you odd jobs, none too strenuous, as you are still recuperating from the attack.
There are times when you catch the townsman watching you curiously. "The Ravages take your flesh, chunk by chunk," he explains. "Everyone who dares venture out into the desert knows this. For you to escape near unscathed — this is unheard of." He pauses. "Wait, you didn't have an hourglass, did you?"
"An hourglass?" you ask innocently.
"They're incredibly rare. Our town possesses just a single hourglass, which the peddlers share. That's why they can only leave one at a time, and are bound by contract to return."
You don't mention that you <i>did</i> have an hourglass back then. The townsman always tells you he keeps you as a good luck charm, and what good's a charm if it has a trick?
[[You must have lost the hourglass on the way to this town.]]
In the town, people do not age. They experience no loss, feel no pain.
You have. In fact, your wounds never heal, and you wake each day to fresh pain from old wounds.
The townsfolk do not understand why you have no choice but to return to the desert. The compassionate townsman tells you, "The Ravages will be there if you go."
[[And all you can say is "I know."->beyond.]]
Though you are hoping that the new day will bring back some of your strength, come morning, you still can't stand up.
If anything, the pain seems to be spreading throughout your left leg, as well as from your right hip to your right leg.
[[The sun sets, ending the second day after the attack of the beasts.->Despite your best efforts, you fall asleep, your body still half upright, half buried in sand.]]
Miles later, you come across a massive pickup truck. You look around for its driver, or for any of its passengers, but the desert landscape is as desolate as ever.
You clamber into the truck. You try stepping on the pedal, but of course nothing happens — there is no key in the ignition.
You notice that the keyhole is larger than normal.
[[Search the glove compartment for the key.]]
[[Try to insert the hourglass into the keyhole.]]
You push the hourglass into the keyhole. It's a perfect fit. The engine purrs awake.
In the orange glow of the bulbous headlights up front, you read the miniscule directions at the gearshift beside you. There are only two gears: Forward and Backward.
[[Push the gearshift forward.]]
[[Pull the gearshift backward.]]
When the glove compartment pops open, you are suddenly overtaken with a profusion of feathers and a blur of terracotta motion. In a daze, you watch as a flock of birds flies away from the truck. With their little beaks, they carry your jacket away with them like a prize.
When you remember how that jacket mysteriously saved you from the beasts earlier, you clamber up on the seat to snatch a sleeve.
You hold on as you are yanked [[up in the air.]]
The truck rockets forward like a bullet from a shotgun, and the force throws you hard against your seat, knocking the breath out of you.
The scenery outside is a crazy blur of sound and color.
Ahead of you, a black hole widens slowly, like an enormous beast opening its jaws to welcome you.
[[Swerve right.]]
[[Swerve left.]]
[[Stomp down on the brake.]]
You set the gear on Backward and stomp down on the pedal. The truck gives a mighty lurch then suddenly barrels backward with the velocity of a roller coaster. Terrified, you grip the wheel like an anchor.
After a breathless moment, you summon up the courage to turn around on your seat to look where you are barreling toward.
Behind you, a bed of sand so violently yellow that you have to [[shut your eyes.->beyond.]]
The flock of birds attacks you with their tiny beaks, but you hold on stubbornly to the jacket.
After a while, the air around you falls eerily silent. There are no more no chirps and caws.
You are still holding on firmly to the sleeve of your jacket, which feels weirdly downy all of a sudden.
[[You open your eyes.->When the sandstorm recedes, you open your eyes.]]
Just as you stomp down on the brake, you remember you haven't put on your seatbelt.
The truck lurches to a stop just before the void, but your body propels forward. You smash through the windshield and launch face-first into the black hole.
What is [[beyond]] the black?
You swerve to the right just in time, then stomp down on the brake. The truck careens and almost tips over, but after a final lurch, it screeches to a stop.
You yank out the hourglass from the keyhole and stumble down from the truck. Your bones don't seem broken, but your body aches terribly all over.
[[Still, you force yourself to limp away from the truck, no longer trusting it to get you safely forward.->continue your journey away from the sound.]]
In your panic, you jerk the steering wheel so hard that it breaks off from the dashboard with a loud crack.
You clutch the wheel helplessly to your chest as the truck barrels toward the black hole, then [[falls deep into it as if from a precipice.]]
The black inside the precipice is absolute, but you hear a cacophony of otherworldly sounds — brass clanking, sonnets manufacturing, a solitary wail echoing.
Then the sounds dwindle, then disappear. A beat of silence, then a deep voice booms, "You should not be here. Venture further, and witness your mind disintegrate. Turn back, little human."
But of course you can't. You can only fall deeper down.
"Very well," booms the voice. "Since you have stumbled unwillingly beyond your realm, I will give you [[another chance.->beyond.]] Use it wisely."
[[More black.->beyond.]]