The End

I do not have the time. It is essential that I find the time. My urgent footfalls are quick along the path. I search as I go, my gaze sweeping tall trees, the blossoms of which inhibit my view; birds and small creatures flit this way and that, drawing my eye in a most infuriating way, as none of them can provide what I seek. I need the time. I must know how much is left.

Ahead, I spy a modest cabin just away from the path. It is deeply overgrown. Strong, but built of cracked, unpainted wood, it is nothing to see. I am loath to stray even those few dozen feet but knowing as I do that such a cabin must house some form of timepiece, I trot up to it and find my way to the door, the pitiful door, drooping languidly from its hinges. There is no latch and I cannot spare a moment to knock. I must find the time.

As I enter the cabin I scarcely notice the incongruity of its interior to its dreadful facade. My eyes fail to recognize my own reflection in the polished marble floor, and my mind declines to comment on the gilding of any — of every — frame, mirror, and moulding that surrounds me. As I drift swiftly about the room, I skirt a long, heavy table, but I don't stop to take in the plenty upon it. The many tiered dishes of rich truffles, the platter upon generous platter heaped with plump roasted meats and glazed vegetables, do not capture my attention. My interest grazes tapestried walls where one might expect to find a grandfather clock, dusts across carved mahogany side tables piled high with books and crystal ashtrays (of which I am not conscious), and finally climbs a great mantle, nearly two men high, above a fireplace giddy with dancing flames. I do not feel its inviting warmth, nor do I pause to rest my weary body on any of the plush velvet chaises and pillows. No crevice of this place hides a clock and it is essential that I find the time. I must know how much is left.

I slam the door behind me and dash back to the path. I am bound for something. I do not yet know what it is, but I am compelled to continue toward it. In my youth, I was certain I'd have encountered it by now. I am beginning to sense that I have little time left in which to reach my uncertain goal and I must find out. I must know how much time is left. It is essential.

This is the purpose that consumes me as my body collapses.