Copyright 2011 Dante Petrilla
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Time. An insubstantial notion. A curious little puzzle for tiny-minded fools.
Time, entropy. The two were woven together into a cruel abstraction that tore at the fabric of life. Small, moronic, physical life. Ridiculous! Physical life!
Time was an enemy to the limited, the tiny, the obtuse.
Time had never been a problem for him - until now. The very notion that it had become a problem plunged him into a dark, abysmal dismay the like of which he had never known. Time was running out. And worst of all - the fault was his own.
Slowly, purposefully, he steadied himself. He prepared the words - the incantations and intonations of unfathomable depth, which would draw upon the source of his mighty power. And once more, just once more, he would try. For his power was running out, side by side with time.
Time! He cursed the very concept now that it had become his greatest enemy. He cursed himself. He despised time for what it was, and himself for what he had done. He had brought everything crashing down around himself in his arrogance.