“Here you go,” I said, handing the boy a jar full of sand.

“What’s this?” He took the object and examined it.

“That’s your brother, of course. Or, rather, what he has become.”

I plunged a finger into the jar, neatly scooping out a few grains. Then I tasted the sample I’d collected.

“Well, not bad, I’d say. Seems I was able to preserve at least eight percent of his former self.”

“Wait, what happened to the rest?” he asked, taking a hesitant step back.

My mouth twitched. “Our souls do not exist in a vacuum. I’m sure a piece of him slipped out somewhere into the great web of cosmic energy. As for retrieving it, you’d have better luck integrating yourself into his soulsand.”

“That’s impossible.” 

I flashed him a Cheshire grin. “Quite right. Like so, you won’t be able to find him. There’s no way around it.”

“But I need all of him back!” The boy seized the jar from me — presumably not because he wanted it, but because he didn’t want me to have it. He held it away from my grip. “Eight percent is the most you can manage? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never kid,” I told him, “The words I speak are the truth. Your decision to distrust me is your decision to avoid the truth. And that kind of idiocy poses no problem for me. After all, it was not I, but you who put yourself in this situation.”

Ignoring my speech, the boy shifted the sand jar to one hand. He rummaged through his pocket with the other but wound up empty-handed.

“No way,” he mumbled, “I swore I had some cash in there.”

“Ah, ah, ah. I don’t deal in money, only souls,” I warned. My lithe body floated around him in a taunting revolution. When he turned his head up at last, I pointed at the huge hourglass ahead to keep his focus. He followed the gesture.

“This here is where I keep the soulsand. It is an infinitely rotating hourglass, one that will never tire of fuel. It can produce soulsand as a means to sustain itself for eternity. You and I, however, are a different story. We are sentient, soulful creatures, whose life spans depend
on the sand from that glass. Now, surely, you must see: this sand is a precious resource that I have given to you so generously.”

The boy examined the jar one more time. His eyes went round and wide like glass marbles.

“S-so my brother’s soulsand must’ve run out. And you, you gave him more from that hourglass?”

“Yes, exactly,” I purred, “His life, if you allow it, should be long and fruitful from now on. But of course, a few trivialities may have been altered — like his favorite color, for example, or the way he talks. Nothing of good nature.”

The boy’s skin had grown very pale since he first entered my domain. Ordinarily, travel through a second-level plane of existence could cause some odd side effects, but that was one I hadn’t seen before.

He was silent still, so I said, “In the meantime, could I interest you in a vial of sand for your handsome self? It’s always handy in case of danger. My glassware is resistant to all worldly damages, so it would be no trouble to carry this rare item on your person—”

“No,” he cried, startling me into silence. “No, no, I don’t want anything else from you! I told you I wanted my brother back, not this… this abomination! You’re hideous, you really are.”

“I have no clue what you mean,” I said. 

The boy stared at me, sullen, like I’d slaughtered his family.

“Are you perhaps upset with the mechanics of the hourglass?” I asked.
He shook his head, his tousled mousy hair falling over one eye.

“You’re evil. You act like you wanna help, but you don’t care at all.”

I laughed. “I care plenty. Otherwise, why would I have taken his soul into my care?”

Both heads turned to the jar. Its sand had transformed into a rough grayish powder, the mark of full integration. The boy looked displeased with this progression. 

He stumbled over his words, “M-monster! I don’t know why you do it, it doesn’t make any sense, but I think it only makes you worse.”

I tilted my head. “A monster, hm? Is that what you call the person who saved him? I restore life to kin, I bring murderers to justice. I stitch families back together and break bonds of poison. I am about the closest thing there is to pure good in the world. So what else could you possibly ask of me? What do you want?”

The boy clutched the jar to his chest. Though his hands shook, his grip was firm.

“A good person,” he stammered, “wouldn’t pretend that life has no value. A good person wouldn’t play God or the victim. A good person wouldn’t take life away from anyone, even if they don’t deserve it!”

I clicked my teeth in disappointment. “You’re so unrealistic. Am I supposed to let killers and rapists walk the earth unharmed? Am I supposed to allow global catastrophes? You’re only making excuses so you can scorn me. If handling life like this is so evil, then why did you beg me to bring your brother back in the first place? It seems you don’t know how to distinguish north from south. So don’t lecture me on what you don’t understand, child.”

I whisked the hourglass out of sight.

“Let’s have a real conversation,” I suggested. “Why do my ethics matter so much to you?”

The boy couldn’t meet my gaze. He stared pointedly at the jar in his hands as if nothing else existed in the world.

“Maybe it’s because…” He thought for a moment. “You have control over so many people, but you’re not nice to them at all. Did God give you this position, or did you? You act nothing like a human being, even if you are one.”

I held my hands out beside me in a helpless shrug.

“You got me. I don’t even remember my life on Earth. What of it?”

I laughed maniacally to enhance the joke. His expression, however, was unchanged.

“You really don’t smile at all, huh?” I sighed.

His spacey look didn’t falter. But, at last, tearing his gaze from the jar, he asked, “So, you were really human once?”

I narrowed my eyes, not keen on where this query was headed.

“Why, that’s an interesting question. I’ll tell you if you try a sample of pure hourglass sand, designed to bind the universe for millennia. Honestly, though, it tastes great. Better than ambrosia.”

The boy raised his voice. “I’m not interested. I’m never, ever coming back. And—” He glanced longingly at the jar. Not even a moment passed before he handed it back to me. “You can keep this. I’m… I’m good, I guess. Just, try not to let someone else take it.”

A wide smile spread across my face. I graciously accepted the jar from his shaking hands.

“Of course, I always do my best. But all facts considered, you’re the one to really watch out for, boy.”

This time he laughed at my joke. I said nothing of it, despite how it warmed my heart. Then, he turned and headed out, right the way he came, with both his hands empty. I was still smiling as if stuck in the moment. I couldn’t help it. My life truly was boring.