Pinnikle: The Lost Truth

3: Of a man made purely of sand

Recorded by Finnegan Lionhartt,
A continuation of the events which took place on the 14th eve of Radia, year of Pinnikle: 1,216.

Sophie nuzzled into Tryn's shoulder to stave away sorrow from the farewell, but I became curious about Jack's certainty. He knew our parents would not come back. I was even more curious about the gift he had mentioned: He wanted to give us, "A gift to remember our parents, always,".  

The mysterious man leaned over my sister's bed, on which the three of us sat. His slim figure was shown by the glow of Tryn. He put his hands on his knees to look us in the eyes, but my attention was drawn to the hands. They seemed to be made up of fine sand. My eyes made their way up to his own, and I saw his young face. He smiled a rosie smile, and the texture of his face was also very fine sand. I had never seen anything like it, nor had I heard of such a thing before.

With an animated gasp of excitement, he said, "Do you see that there, by your bedside floor?"

He pointed to the floor by Sophie's bed. She rubbed her little eyes, and looked down. "There is... nothing," she said inquisitively.

"No! I swear I see something wonderful," he said, drawing Sophie and I to look at the floor.

"Hehe," Sophie giggled, "You're silly, mister!"

Jack kneeled, then got on all fours, and looked under the bed.

I shuddered, and asked, "Is it that monster!?"

"No, no. It is not the shadow, with his box," Jack said as he popped his head up, and it made me laugh.

"The box?" Sophie asked. "Why does he wear it?"

"Oh, the box of Fear!" Jack said, animated.

He sat on his knees, and leaned in toward us.

"The box is filled with miserable nothings, you know?" He said, as if it were common truth. "It's really quite the worthless treasure. It contains all the things that don't exist."

Jack nuzzled Sophie's nose, and dustings of sand fell from the tip of his own.

Sophie giggled and asked, "Why does it do that?"

"My nose? Oh no? Have I lost it?" He asked playfully, and nuzzled her again.

"No, silly! You keep dusting me with sand!" She said back, happily.

"Oh, you mean..." Jack said, as he lifted his hand to sprinkle glittering sand over our heads. "You mean, this sand? This is what I am made up of - sand." he said.

"We have not heard of such things," I said.

"Well perhaps that is because you are the first, in a very long time, of whom I've had the pleasure of introducing myself to!" Jack said, and looked to Tryn.

"Children," Tryn said to us, "it is my greatest joy to introduce you to Jack - otherwise known as the sandman. He is the giver of all good dreams."

"And only good dreams!" Jack added. "Hold out your hands, dear ones, if you are brave."

I did not hesitate, and I cannot tell you why. I held my palm out, and Jack fluttered his fingers over it. Golden sand whirled into a small figure of myself on my palm, and looked up at me.

"Me too!" Sophie insisted, and flung out her hand.

"Oh, I would never deny such a sweet girl as yourself!" Jack said.

He sprinkled glimmering sands into a mound on her little hand, and it became a little figure of herself. The little thing danced and twirled in her hand. It ran off her palm, and twirled back onto it, then fell over in a dizzy haze, with its legs flat out, and toes pointed up. My figure produced a ball of sand, and threw it at the little Sophie's tummy. They proceeded to have a sand fight, from their places, and we both laughed.