The Bronze Hourglass

A young adventurer finds treasure, but gets more than he bargained for.

Kelvan was cold, tired and surly, even more so than usual. He had spent hours travelling through this dark, dank, goblin infested ruin, and he had nothing to show for it, except perhaps an hourglass. Sure, the Windmother had warned him that it was cursed, but it didn't look cursed to him... what did she know anyway? The gold inlaid bronze hourglass looked like it was worth a fortune, and more importantly it would be a dazzling addition to his living room set. Kelvan made up his mind, there was no way he was going to leave empty handed.

WIndmother Treska just couldn’t understand it. Two days ago, before his venture to the ruins, Kelvan was young man, eager for adventure. It was a shock when he grew almost a foot overnight; it was even more of a shock when he arrived at the communal meal this morning with a full beard. Then there’s the matter of the treasure he returned with, a beautiful bronze hourglass. She was sure there was something she should remember about it, but she just couldn’t bring it to mind.

The prisoner had been trapped in the hourglass for almost a century. He decided that he just couldn’t abide the voices any longer. Although, in the past, he had resisted the urge to transfer the hourglass’ curse to a new owner, he longed for nothing more than a moment alone with his thoughts.

Kelvan knew that he should have listened to the Windmother. Though he found the hourglass only a week ago, now his hair was grey and his bones creaked when he walked. That said, the past week had been the most pleasant of his short life. Each morning he turned the glass, entered a trance like state and lived the memories of someone else's lifetime before the sands fell. He lived more in the last week of his life than most do who die of old age. In the end, he was happy with the pact. He would join with the hourglass for eternity.

Windmother Treska performed the ritual with care. She knew Kelvan didn’t put much stock into such things, but she also knew that funeral rights are for the benefit of those who remain. As the villagers somberly returned home, she stealthily placed the bronze hourglass atop Kelvan's chest and wove the spell which sealed the tomb. Now that it was no longer active, she remembered the curse of the hourglass. Kelvan would be trapped until he lost his sense of self and fully merged with the others trapped forever in the prison, or until he transferred the curse to another willing host. She grieved for Kelvan, but she would not put any of the other villagers at risk. The hourglass must never be found.

When the hourglass released him, the former prisoner basked in the stillness at first. He heard no more voices. He felt no external emotions. He did not sense the presence of anyone or anything. As he adjusted to his new reality, his senses started working again. He was in a desert, on a caravan route, but something was wrong. He was alone. Worse than that, he felt empty, longing for a companionship that even the most talkative member of a passing silk caravan could not provide. He knew he would dedicate what remained of his life to searching for the sense of belonging he had lost.

Author's Note

I've been writing as a hobby for a while, but I've never shared my work with anyone. Last night I spun up an initial draft of this story and shared it with a friend. I know it's already a better story thanks to her insights. Because of this experience, I was inspired to share the edited story with a broader group, and I welcome any constructive feedback.