Death skeletal hand glided over the lifetimers, several were very close to
empty, and those were the ones he grabbed and stored in the recesses of his
black robes- all but one.
He held it to the light, and then sat down at his desk, staring at the
medium sized pewter lifetimer, and twirled his scythe-shaped paperknife in
his boney fingers.
Something was wrong, and he knew it, but he couldn't place his finger on
it.. But he knew this lifetimer hadn't been this empty, by the earthly
equivalent of, an hour ago.
A man limped horribly out of a store, leaving a shopkeeper angry and considerably poorer. He pulled an arrow bolt from his arm, and cursed the wound, wrapping it up, and waking away- considerably richer.
He had been happy.... well, content- he was fine with being, simply, Sam.... Sybil was happy with it too... but every time that damn Patrician called him in at the end of a particularly physically exhausting mission, he had a new title...he lost count of them all, especially after Duke, and al that business in Klatch (author's note- haven't read Jingo in a while, I forget if it was Klatch or somewhere else)... He passed the tankard between his hands, it made a sort of 'ffm fmm' sound- it was still full, he had sworn off alcohol, but it felt good just to hold it. He looked back.... had it been 17 years already? Time does fly, and he knew he was getting older, he could feel it.... and his daughter, he could remember when she was colicky and he wanted to kill her, and Sybil wanted to kill... well, not /him/ per say, but she didn't want 'Little Sammy' to come out and play for a long time.... in fact 'Little Sammy' had long been considered, by Sybil, to be the disgusting paste eater that every little child avoids at recess... But 17... and Sybil made sure she had been given every luxury they could afford.... in fact, if you can think of some skill they give classes for, there would be such a small chance of the child not being given any of those classes, that if you had made bets that she wasn't given a class, a loan shark would feel sorry for you, while making sure you had no more use of your lower appendages... And, with all of that, she wanted to join The Watch.... Of course, when Carrot heard about this, his eyes gleamed over in pride... as they always did whenever anyone said the words "I" "join" and "Watch" in the same sentence (even if the sentence is "I heard that anyone who would join the Watch is a nose picker, hahahahahah" and run off.... Angua thought it was sweet, and refused to tell Sam why.... She and Carrot had been married about 17 years now, and they had a 16 year old son (who could voluntarily turn himself into a wolf only during the full moon), which Sybil found convenient for a reason Vimes couldn't figure out... Why women always understood things and refused to let him in on it remained a mystery- likewise, Nobby's natural skin tone... He shook his head as he paid the bill, leaving the full tankard at the bar. The stars shone brightly in the sky- or at least they would have, if this wasn't Anhk-Morpork, ... so, given the amount of time he spent in the bar, and at work, and the small sliver of a day spent at home, he assumed that there had been at least one or two stars twinkling in the sky... It had taken a while for him to get home, it often did when he walked- but it was something he still enjoyed. He reached home too late to say goodnight to Sybil- she had been going to sleep earlier whenever she got the chance, and, from the creaking of the door upstairs, Vimes could figure that it had to be about 1 am... Da'a had just gone to bed. Or at least, she went to her room... there was a strange tradition between the father and daughter, he'd give ample time to know he was home, staying outside to smoke one more, leaning on the door. Then she'd go upstairs and leave the door open a crack, and then she'd start to sing... And her voice always gave Sam much joy, it was as perfect as a singing voice could get, without being operatic- a style Vimes could do without. And then he'd begin his ascent upstairs, much as he was doing now, and go to the door, that was open a crack, and watch his daughter sing. But the singing fell short, and something went 'thump' on the floor... he stopped in his steps, and thought quickly as he looked around- there was no assassin, he had made sure, and he was certain to have taught his daughter to do al checks every night before bed so that none would get her... He rushed to the room, and saw the scene...
Death sighed, mounting Binky, sometimes the young are meant to die... that did stir emotion, but no, something was seriously wrong with this.... with one exception, a lifetimer isn't supposed to glow and curve like that...Rincewind was just an eccentric case...
A figure in a black robe hunched over the girl, a scythe held in his right hand... Some came over Vimes, a strange feeling, like he was being enveloped in pure nothingness.. He knew he couldn't be facing a skeleton, his brain told him that, but it also told him that he was seeing a skeleton hunched over his daughter... it was enough to drive a man insane. BEFORE YOU SPEAK- SHE IS DEAD. Death said holding up an empty lifetimer. BUT THIS MUST NOT BE SO. SOMEONE HAS BEEN TAMPERING WITH FORCES BEYOND MY CONTROL... THIS MUST BE FIXED. He said holding out an ancient lifetimer, the sand stopped in the top... USE THIS WISELY- WHEN IT RUNS OUT YOUR CHANCE TO SAVE HER IS OVER. Vimes reached for the lifetimer, it was ancient and brass with old clock faces etched masterfully in it. THIS IS YOUR TIME- USE IT WISELY... TURN THE GLASS TO GO BACK AND FORWARD THROUGH YOU'RE LIFE..... WHEN THE SAND RUNS OUT YOUR TIME IS DONE.
It had to have been a dream.... he awoke in his bed, blinking and confused. He turned, and Sybil was there, sleeping. He gently caressed her face, and smiled to himself- a dream. He turned again, and looked at the night stand- He couldn't understand why the hourglass from his dream was there, sand pouring slowly.
A man limped horribly out of a store, leaving a shopkeeper angry and considerably poorer. He pulled an arrow bolt from his arm, and cursed the wound, wrapping it up, and waking away- considerably richer.
He had been happy.... well, content- he was fine with being, simply, Sam.... Sybil was happy with it too... but every time that damn Patrician called him in at the end of a particularly physically exhausting mission, he had a new title...he lost count of them all, especially after Duke, and al that business in Klatch (author's note- haven't read Jingo in a while, I forget if it was Klatch or somewhere else)... He passed the tankard between his hands, it made a sort of 'ffm fmm' sound- it was still full, he had sworn off alcohol, but it felt good just to hold it. He looked back.... had it been 17 years already? Time does fly, and he knew he was getting older, he could feel it.... and his daughter, he could remember when she was colicky and he wanted to kill her, and Sybil wanted to kill... well, not /him/ per say, but she didn't want 'Little Sammy' to come out and play for a long time.... in fact 'Little Sammy' had long been considered, by Sybil, to be the disgusting paste eater that every little child avoids at recess... But 17... and Sybil made sure she had been given every luxury they could afford.... in fact, if you can think of some skill they give classes for, there would be such a small chance of the child not being given any of those classes, that if you had made bets that she wasn't given a class, a loan shark would feel sorry for you, while making sure you had no more use of your lower appendages... And, with all of that, she wanted to join The Watch.... Of course, when Carrot heard about this, his eyes gleamed over in pride... as they always did whenever anyone said the words "I" "join" and "Watch" in the same sentence (even if the sentence is "I heard that anyone who would join the Watch is a nose picker, hahahahahah" and run off.... Angua thought it was sweet, and refused to tell Sam why.... She and Carrot had been married about 17 years now, and they had a 16 year old son (who could voluntarily turn himself into a wolf only during the full moon), which Sybil found convenient for a reason Vimes couldn't figure out... Why women always understood things and refused to let him in on it remained a mystery- likewise, Nobby's natural skin tone... He shook his head as he paid the bill, leaving the full tankard at the bar. The stars shone brightly in the sky- or at least they would have, if this wasn't Anhk-Morpork, ... so, given the amount of time he spent in the bar, and at work, and the small sliver of a day spent at home, he assumed that there had been at least one or two stars twinkling in the sky... It had taken a while for him to get home, it often did when he walked- but it was something he still enjoyed. He reached home too late to say goodnight to Sybil- she had been going to sleep earlier whenever she got the chance, and, from the creaking of the door upstairs, Vimes could figure that it had to be about 1 am... Da'a had just gone to bed. Or at least, she went to her room... there was a strange tradition between the father and daughter, he'd give ample time to know he was home, staying outside to smoke one more, leaning on the door. Then she'd go upstairs and leave the door open a crack, and then she'd start to sing... And her voice always gave Sam much joy, it was as perfect as a singing voice could get, without being operatic- a style Vimes could do without. And then he'd begin his ascent upstairs, much as he was doing now, and go to the door, that was open a crack, and watch his daughter sing. But the singing fell short, and something went 'thump' on the floor... he stopped in his steps, and thought quickly as he looked around- there was no assassin, he had made sure, and he was certain to have taught his daughter to do al checks every night before bed so that none would get her... He rushed to the room, and saw the scene...
Death sighed, mounting Binky, sometimes the young are meant to die... that did stir emotion, but no, something was seriously wrong with this.... with one exception, a lifetimer isn't supposed to glow and curve like that...Rincewind was just an eccentric case...
A figure in a black robe hunched over the girl, a scythe held in his right hand... Some came over Vimes, a strange feeling, like he was being enveloped in pure nothingness.. He knew he couldn't be facing a skeleton, his brain told him that, but it also told him that he was seeing a skeleton hunched over his daughter... it was enough to drive a man insane. BEFORE YOU SPEAK- SHE IS DEAD. Death said holding up an empty lifetimer. BUT THIS MUST NOT BE SO. SOMEONE HAS BEEN TAMPERING WITH FORCES BEYOND MY CONTROL... THIS MUST BE FIXED. He said holding out an ancient lifetimer, the sand stopped in the top... USE THIS WISELY- WHEN IT RUNS OUT YOUR CHANCE TO SAVE HER IS OVER. Vimes reached for the lifetimer, it was ancient and brass with old clock faces etched masterfully in it. THIS IS YOUR TIME- USE IT WISELY... TURN THE GLASS TO GO BACK AND FORWARD THROUGH YOU'RE LIFE..... WHEN THE SAND RUNS OUT YOUR TIME IS DONE.
It had to have been a dream.... he awoke in his bed, blinking and confused. He turned, and Sybil was there, sleeping. He gently caressed her face, and smiled to himself- a dream. He turned again, and looked at the night stand- He couldn't understand why the hourglass from his dream was there, sand pouring slowly.