Ghost with Three Eyes Bearing Time Turtle

by Thorin Klosowski

Argenti stands on the outskirts of the fabric of reality, wondering what it was exactly he’d gotten up to do in the first place. He knows there was some purpose, at some point in time, but what was it? And why is he holding a time turtle?

This would take some detective work.

Stepping back through his newly developed third eye, willing the time turtle to drive him into the past, Argenti pictures himself as he was ten minutes ago.

Argenti is standing on a cliffside, looking out over a vast land of rolling green hills. He senses someone is near him. He turns to find his son, Alandi, facing him with a weapon in his hand.

“Father.”

“Son.”

Alandi looks at Argenti squarely, sizing him up. Questions roll down his face. “You’re here then, again,” he says, not a question but not quite a statement either.

“I am.” Argenti replies. Right. Now he remembers. Did he remember this the first time? Or is the memory of what he’s thinking in the next ten minutes new? He’ll need to get a hold of the time turtle to know for sure.

“We don’t have to do this,” Argenti says, a stern fatherly warning with a hint of pleading.

“We do, though,” Alandi says, “It’s already the case.”

“Hrm,” Argenti says.

“Hrm,” Alandi says.

“Is it possible I can make a request?” Argenti asks.

“Of course, father,” Alandi says.

“I’d like to take a turtle with me, so I can remember this moment again.”

“Sure, father,” and Alandi drives a spear through his father’s eyes.

The world turns white for Argenti, then fades to a purple and sits there, threatening to go black, but being unsure of itself. Argenti feels his body ease into place as the hole from the spear mends itself into a small painted eye. He’s standing now, or perhaps he was standing before, but now he’s sure of himself, standing. Will the boy deliver the turtle?

At his feet is a turtle. Argenti leans down and picks it up.