Thank goodness for Friday! This week I'm certain I would've lost my head if it wasn't attached. To quote my 6-year-old (in a complain-y voice for full effect): "Why do you keep repeating everything out loud when we're done half of it??" ... yeah, just wait, Kiddo lol. Coloring habits in our house dictate not having accessible pens (markers and crayons everywhere, but nothing permanent because there's also a 3-year-old) so lists are harder to do when you only have a broken wax crayon and that one envelope from the mail that hasn't made it into recycle yet. I may feel like Dora the Explorer repeating all the steps of the chores done and yet to do, but I do remember more. :)
3. One Small Fox
Change kicked the table again. Present sighed and frowned at her sister, who remained in a constant state of agitated motion as she pouted.
"Well," Present said with finality. "Does that mean we are finished here?"
The second to last grain of sand slid to the bottom half of the glass. The last grain remained suspended at the top of the funnel.
"All that needs to be revealed is done. The world will pass this age," Future stood as she said this and then waited at the edge of the table.
"The history is recorded. The age gone is secured with history and the slates are clean for the age to come," Past also stood and waited.
Next was Change. "All options are open. My hand is drawn and the choices to be made are set. Those under my hand will find the path of their choosing."
Chaos stood, his chest full of self-importance. "All things under my hand will come as they fall. No set paths await the lives I carry."
"All lives rest in my hand,” Present intoned her own, familiar statement. “I will tend to them to ensure that all points required to be met shall be so. My hand shall be guided by this hour's revelations of the age to come, and educated from the ages gone," she grasped the hourglass in both hands. "This eternal hour is ended."
The last grain of sand fell with an audible thud, and time again moved at its regular pace. The images that had been left about the room vanished, as did the room itself, leaving nothing with the Fates aside from the chairs, table, and hourglass; all surrounded by shadow.
Future was the first to leave. She drifted away, following whatever scenes and lights that only her blinded eyes were capable of beholding. Past pointed a reproachful look – and finger – at Chaos before he, too, left the table and walked away into the shadows. Change whirled from the table and stalked away, her form swallowed quickly by the darkness. Chaos smirked at where she had disappeared, and then sauntered off in his own direction, whistling.
Present shook her head and sighed. She had the conciliation that it would be another age before they would have to meet again to find out how the world would go from what they had decided in the past eternal hour. She also had the conciliation of living completely in the Now once she entered the shadows, so would be able to forget the distaste she already had for the next meeting as soon as she decided to step away from the table.
She let go of the glass and finally stood. The way of the world remained a mystery to her. She knew what had happened and what should happen, but Future's sight and Past's recounting were as beyond her grasp as it was for them to consider living every life that existed as it existed in every moment. In a few steps, she would forget all about this meeting because the Now would demand her full attention. Still, she thought as she entered the familiar blanket of the shadows, it is odd that the lives of all will rest on one, small fox.
Why are Authors crazy? I can't answer that, but I can provide bits of my own thoughts so that you can piece together why I may be.