TITLE: What Elephants Know
You ain’t ever got enough of it – not now, not ever.
You don’t ever want it on your hands, and it slips through the cracks when you need it the most.
Allen contemplated that bit of wisdom as he watched the soft downpour of pure white sand. The six-foot tall wrought iron hourglass reflected his face back to him as the last grains dropped into the lower vessel. The hourglass always made him feel small. He straightened his back, attempting to extend his five-foot-ten inches, his small wiry frame a testament to his somewhat hyper nature. He brushed at his sparse blond hair. His hairline had long ago lost its acquaintance with his forehead, and the fine lines in his brow threatened to merge into one large wrinkle. The wrinkle deepened as he squinted into the glass.
I’ve waited a long time for this.
The gigantic mechanized timepiece – the focal point of the magnificent garden – stood in the middle of the cobblestone court, watched over by the oldest oak tree in the world. The tree’s massive trunk and long limbs, gnarled and wrinkled and bent by time, had stood guard over the garden for over four thousand years. A breeze rose and sent a shiver through those twisted arms as the last grain of sand settled down onto the snow white dune.
So it begins.
Allen watched the warping of his image as the glass began its slow turn, the gears crying out in their stiffness.