Death’s Time Keeper
Mohit Kumar Arora
The author will also be the narrator and would be accompanied by Mark the hero of our story in taking you through various thrilling and fascinating moments between him and death. At the beginning of this story the author is sitting at his desk in a lonely house amidst a thick forest and is about to begin a book named, “Death’s Time keeper”
Death has it’s time keepers spread across the four directions in the world. These are four sons of the knight who were tricked by Death; they are referred as Death lords of the four directions. They remind Death to visit people when their time in this world is over. As legend has it such people are called Death’s Time Keepers. This story’s about one such timekeeper who falls in love with a girl who is no less than an angel for him. At the end of it however he knows it’s time for her to die. Will he be able to sacrifice his immortality for her? Let’s find out.
Death’s Time Keeper
By Mohit Kumar Arora
Copyright 2012 Mohit Kumar Arora
ISBN: 9781301356034
LICENSE
No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means without written permission of
The author, with the specific exception of brief quotations contained in critical articles and
Review for information contact the author by e-mail @
[email protected] DISCLAIMER
Death’s Time Keeper is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, or organizations are
Products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 The Beginning
Chapter 2 The Bully
Chapter 3 The Creation
Chapter 4 The Son of Death
Chapter 5 Finally I became, Death’ Time Keeper
Chapter 6 The angel, who walked in my life.
Chapter 7 Love’s in the air
Chapter 8 The Truth revealed
Acknowledgement
Other upcoming books
About the Author
I had promised myself that I would not let Death take her away from me but even with all this power I couldn’t stop the inevitable.
She said, “Oh Mark, tell me my favorite story just one last time.”
I looked into her eyes with my heart filled with pain and my eyes with helplessness. I decided to fulfill her last request; I held her hands and said. “So this is how it began, All through my childhood I was seen as a bad omen. While life kept on surprising me with a new misery every day, the worst was yet to come. One afternoon at my grandparent’s house I found myself all alone in the cellar, exploring junk and found an old chest. Anxious as to what lied in it; I forced to break it open with no real luck.
Then I remembered about the unusual gift that I got from my step grand dad on my tenth Birthday. I searched for the key tied around my neck which I had carried ever since. I tried my luck with the key to open the chest and it easily opened up. Inside was an ancient sand watch which read, ‘The Death Clock’ My heart sank as I felt an unusual rush of blood through my veins; the basement quickly was turning into a dark hole from which I would never get out of and to add to my misery, Death’s own clock in my hand. It was then I became the Death’s Time keeper.”
Chapter 1: The Beginning
Felt like flying through the clouds dreaming of all the good things life has to offer and then you start falling into the unknown. You just helplessly try to flap your hands like a bird, the human body's defenses take over the head and heart in an effort to save itself from extinction that's how we are made the natural phenomenon of survival fighting death to the last breath. Similar feelings evolved while I was in bed but here, I was fighting the morning alarm to somehow just stop. With my head locked under the spell of the pillow, I sent my fierce hand warrior to kill the alarm dragon. The trick was to go for its head without dropping it off. After a few attempts I succeeded and finally peace was restored so my head unlocked itself from the spell of the pillow. Today was my tenth birthday; I woke up rubbing my eyes trying to fight my way back into the world. I rushed towards my living room only to find out it as dead as the graveyard. Thought it would be filled with gifts and surprise visit from my step grandparents. Was not meant to be, dragging myself back to my bed I did a reality check, who am I? I am Mark Timer. Where am I? I am at an orphanage in the town of Blackville. Where are my parents? Don’t know, it was told to me once that I was found crying on the graveyard’s door on the darkest of nights with no one to take care of me. Passersby thought I was the evil himself. I could have died there that night if it wasn’t for the local priest who took me into his hands and raised me to the skies, which could have at that very moment fallen upon and destroyed all mankind. Lightning thundered its way through the thick blanket of evil black skies, unleashing its fury on earth. He then left me on the doors of this orphanage where an old couple adopted me to stay at the orphanage and took care of the money required for my stay. Just a week later the priest passed away while returning from the church, how it happened no one knows. Even the maid that left me soaking in my wet clothes on the first day at the orphanage jumped from the window and took her life, since that day everybody referred to me as the death’s son.
Ever since then the world had looked at me as bad news. Nobody at the orphanage used to talk to me, once a new matron hit me badly, not knowing what she was up against. The next day she ran naked on the streets, a car hit her and she died. Even Mr. George the man who ran the orphanage made all attempts to send me to a different town but something kept me here, I was meant to do something important here in Blackville. While going under my blanket I started weeping, as I often used to whenever I felt lonely, but whenever I wept somebody had to die. It was the watchman; he was eaten alive by a bunch of stray dogs even as I kept on looking out the window that night into the darkness as those dogs disappeared thereafter. I had made myself believe that I was the Death’s Son who cannot be unhappy for the sake of one’s around. Though I did not plainly understand what it meant by then?
The day started as usual and nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just before the evening tea, Mr. George called me into his office; I wondered what it was about? I crossed the corridor and entered his office. The office was empty so I went inside and sat on a chair. While looking at the paintings on the wall I always used to feel uncomfortable with particularly one of them. It was a painting of a house on the edge of the mountain facing a dark and stormy sea. There was something about that painting that I could not understand. As I was trying to avoid looking into its direction, to my rescue Mr. George entered the room.
He said, “Well Mr. Timer, do you know what day is today?”
I just shook my head in acceptance. He then opened the drawers in his desk and kept a small bag on the table.
“That’s your birthday present which arrived here this morning, now as you know our policy is to check every package so we made no exception this time and found this pouch and a letter from your great grand dad.”
I took the pouch in my hands and checked what was in it; took out a key attached to a thread, long enough to be used as a necklace. Just as I took the key and closed my hands a thundering voice broke the silence, Mr. George had to quickly get up and shut the window.
“I believe a storm is on its way, well Mr. Timer off you go.”
I took the letter and the bag and went out of the room, while leaving the room I again looked at the painting but this time did not feel uneasy about it; I stared towards it as if it was pulling me towards itself. Mr. George also noticed this and quickly interrupted my view. I left the room and he closed the door behind me. Back on my bed I held the key in my hands; it looked like the ones I had
seen in story books opening up some treasure chests. I would make myself believe that my parents were very rich and that some nurse had swapped me with her child at the hospital and then left me at the graveyard. I just could not believe that life would be so unfair to me but then looking at the other children at the orphanage would make me realize that there are a few of us without hope for the future. We would just end at some construction site trying to make a living out of nothing and then one day die of old age. These thoughts would make me cry for long hours and hours into the night. Out of nowhere the skies would thunder and the layer of black clouds would be exposed from darkness by a sword of lightening piercing through it. Generally after such nights I would over hear conversation of the staff at the orphanage talking about how a fire swallowed an entire region in a neighboring town in which many people were burnt alive, or how a riot broke out in the town last night where people got killed. The only thing I could relate at this time was that it was all happening because I was crying and I would try and avoid crying a few times but the sense of being alone would take over my mind and my eyes would burst into tears and then I would really cry out loud. The other children didn’t take it very well so I always got an empty bed as the partner in my room as anyone who would be sent as my room partner would always run out of the room as if they have seen a ghost. There were a few partners who were relatively new to the orphanage who would try to talk me into a conversation but none got a word out of me and then in a week or so would just opt out of the room. There was once a child who could not speak or listen he made it to almost a week living with me as he would usually go to sleep earlier than me and would not wake up even if I brought the ceiling down crying. He made me realize that everything is not permanent and there is someone or something that would come along and change your perception on anything you believe is permanent. But he too mysteriously just opted out of my room. Mr. George never made anyone stay with me without their consent and he too preferred that I stay alone. This came to me as a surprise but that was what life was to me Mysterious and full of surprises, the bad ones of course.
I would just sit all day and look out of the window and think what the world has to offer me? There was little basic education that was provided to help us read and write. There was a small library at the orphanage in a small cottage across the playground and wasn’t really a maintained one. On a monthly basis Mr. George would receive a stack of books as donations from the generous families of the town and he would just ask the staff members to keep it in the library, who would just pile it one top of another. There were many boys would often go to the library to get some books but never returned them, the books either ended up in their rooms under their beds or at the reception area of the orphanage. Some mischievous few would also tear the pictures of their favorite heroes and paste it onto the wall of their rooms. I really wished to get good education and read books, as I had realized that they were my eyes and ears of the world outside the orphanage.
After a few days I saw someone sitting with Mr. George in his office. The man looked quite influential and was very well dressed also carried an elegant look on his face. I had a little glimpse of this meeting as I made my way to the refectory. There was a feast going on and I had never heard such a buzz in this hall. There was everything on the buffet table from mouth watering Roast turkey to creamy mashed potatoes to fries to huge cakes and jellies and you name it, it was there. I was very happy to pile up my plate with all the food available. Roast turkey legs were my favorite so I sat on the table and appreciated the food I was about to eat. As I took a bite into the meat at the end of the leg I could taste how well it was cooked. The taste was simply amazing and the flavor just took over my mind as I closed my eyes while chewing into juicy and tender flesh. I hogged like a pig in some kind of an eating war and as would follow, hiccups took over and I had to back it up by flushing down the stuck food with some water. At the end of the food war my stomach was full but I wasn’t yet satisfied, it was just that kind of food which would leave your tummy full and your heart still wanting more. I made my way back to my room and just at the door of Mr. George’s office I came face to face with the wealthy man.
He looked at me and smiled, he then turned to Mr. George, “Is he the one?”
Mr. George nodded his head in acceptance.
The wealthy man bent down to me and said, “What’s your name child?”
I replied in a squeaking voice and belching at the same time, “Mark Timer”
He gave me a mysterious look and patted my head before accompanying Mr. George to the reception. I was still under the influence of the food I had just eaten so really did not give much of a thought then as to what just happened but later on I went through the whole incident again and every time the smile of the wealthy man would give me a doubt. Later I discovered that this feast was arranged by this gentleman so I really praised him in my thoughts and as a ten year would do, I hoped to see him more often.
Back at the library also there were a whole set of new books those were included in the collection and a librarian was assigned to maintain the same and there were thousands of books those were kept as an option to read. The rooms were inspected quite often and the pictures would be stripped off the walls and children of those rooms punished. Every book was registered with the name and room number of the reader and a time limit for the return was set. Failing which the reader would face a ban from the library and the same fate of the children who would tear any pages from the books. It was like a dream come true I tried to read as many books as possible but even then could not develop of what could be termed as a proper reading or writing skill.
One day at the library I came across a book, “Death’s Time Keeper”.
It really made my curiosity jump over the roof so I picked it up. I opened it in the room and there was a familiar picture at the start, it was Death in its hood with a lovely lady in the front carrying an ancient sand watch. I just kept on looking at this picture and could not even go on to read the first page and just one day before my deadline to return the book, I returned it mysteriously and could not remember doing so or moreover reading it. The librarian, by now knew that messing with me was not the right thing to do. So she just politely brought to my notice the fact that the first page was torn. I didn’t remember doing it and just stood there with no answer. While I was at the library, the torn page was lying under my bed and the picture of death and the lady caught fire and was vanishing into thin air in the form of smoke. It had begun.