A TIMELY DEATH:

Out of time, and Time yet again

The old man looks on, with anxious eyes. They gather around, just like all the other times, some mingling and communing, others keeping to themselves, but all of them watching just the same.

The old man knows what's coming, and so do they.

Some resent him... yet some are fond of him...
To some he brought gifts, joy & good times... yet to others he may have well brought misery, demise, & bad times.

Course, he could'nt do much about those that brought either to themselves.

Many came, and many left for good during his stay.
Trends took off, and trends died.
There was creation, and there was destruction.

It all repeats itself in the end and he knows this.

He nervously fiddles with his beard, as the hours flash by.

His sole comfort is the now tattered banner that hangs loosely over his withering body. The banner he so proudly wore back then upon his arrival - greeted with a glorious reception full of fireworks and much drink. It had been a good time indeed. His sole comfort, yet a mockery of sorts at the same time.

The sentence that had been passed unto him would inevitably come to pass. It came with the job... that's just the way it was and always had been. His predecessors knew it, and just about each and every one witnessing it knows it all too well. Why, you might ask? It's simple, really. To most if not all of those watching, he will not be the first to fall at the ringing of that hour.

Yes, that hour, fast approaching, every second a heavy thud as the hands of time make their laps around the face of the clock.

Tick tock... Tick tock...

A bead of sweat, then another, and another, emerge and crawl down the old mans furrowed expression. He can't escape. None ever have. With a heavy sigh, he takes a deep breath and does what many prisoners of his position would do...

He lights a cigarette and calms his nerves.

His eyes scan the floor tiles, the walls, and then his own hands. How fast age came. It seemed as if one minute he was in his festive youth, and the next, he was nearing the end of his time. As he slowly allowed the smoke to pour out of his lungs and roll off his lips, he felt a twinge of rebelliousness. There was still a blink of defiance in him.

Maybe this time it'd be different. Maybe this time he could do what none of the others could. Boy would that stir up some trouble. With a hint of mischief, he laughed softly at the whole notion. The notion of avoiding the unavoidable.

The clock, ever so patient, continued on it's way... round and round... round and dreadfully round.

The witnesses all stood at the ready... even those who didn't consider this ritual to be of any significance would in the end be affected by it. Looking into all of their eyes, behind his own a blend of defiance, fear, loathing, and even hope. Oh, but didn't they looked so happy to do away with him. It comes with the job, he told himself.
He continued running his eyes across all of theirs, some jeered, some couldn't care less, some were too drunk to even notice. But just then, his breath caught, as he noticed that some of them were actually a bit mournful... even just a hint of it was there. Some bade him farewell as the ticker of time continued it's deadly march.

He smiled, and closed his eyes.

10
an unheard cough began to emanate from him, harder and harder,
9
8
He then tore the banner from his chest, clutching it in his clenched fist...
7
yet his smile persisted through the spazms,
6
5
he hung on to his defiance and fear, along with his pride and sense of duty
4
3
drawing from every last reservoir of effort time allowed him
2
maybe he could beat this thing, unlike the rest before...
1
maybe...

With that... the stormlike thundering began. The skies lit up, he caught the near blinding flare, exploding before his eyes or mayhaps even his mind as he began to fall over - in his mind something fired off as he remembered, this was death, but this too was birth. The spectacle took his breath away, his last breath, and he collapsed, falling over with a thud so loud, yet muffled by the cheers and ringing of time around him. The tattered banner, the one he so proudly wore, escaped from his fist as his grasp loosened... the faded digits bearing his identifying number, 2007, and it fluttered across the ground.

Time meant nothing for just this moment, a moment which the crowds cannot understand, imagine, nor comprehend.

Now, time lurched, as the deceased old man's carcass began to bulge, and rip. There was a inaudible bang followed by a strobe-like flashing, as if lightning had struck the ground where the old man lay. His body instantly became ashes, disintegrating in the wind.

Time picked up again, and before the witnesses lay a newborn, tangled and obscured by a large banner, not much unlike the one it's predecessor wore, only with a new number...

2008.

And they celebrated - here, it all starts again, more of the same, more of the new...