Time traveler: The stitch

Part three: The last timekeeper

The traveler sat alone in the dining hall, the massive table stretched out before him; empty except for him. He was impossibly young, with a small bit of brown stubble growing on the bottom part of his face. His brown hair hung in dense strands around his head, never dipping down past his small shoulders. He was dressed in a white T-shirt with a V-neck and jeans, his brown jacket that he normally wore hung on the wooden chair behind him. His worn red and black running shoes sat on his feet like weights.

His ever so slightly crooked nose was bigger than average and led up to his golden iris's like a runway. Black rings hung underneath them, uncounted nights of sleep had been stolen from the traveler, still a boy forever by his species standards.

The table placed before him was draped with a stained red tablecloth that went from end to end of the table meant for twenty four people on each side. The silverware and dishes had been cleared out before the traveler had arrived and he had been forced to make his own meal; not quite done spaghetti with still cold red sauce spat through it.

His fork clattered on the plate as he ate the food with a sad look on his face. Chewing obnoxiously loud in a vain yet subtle hope that someone would yell at him to stop. But no sound came from lips that weren't there and the traveler kept chewing.

He was alone in a mansion that existed just outside of time, its physical form set three minutes after every event.

It seemed to go on forever, with five floors going up and nine going down from the main floor. The bottom most floor was the travelers graveyard where almost every fallen traveler, good and evil, found their final resting place among stone statues of them.

The five floors above it had every manner of foul creatures living within them, from demented travelers to criminals that had been deemed unsafe for even mortal prisons to keep. The three above them were home to people whom death would not accept or at least thats what the traveler had been told, he had never personally been to those floors.

The main floor consisted of the kitchen, entry hall, living room and the dining room. The first and second floors going up were dedicated as living quarters to the once small army of travelers that lived in the building.

But now only one room of those floors was occupied, pinned down on the first floor, going up with the number 290; the room that the man at the table lived in. The third floor was an armory of every weapon a traveler felt like using, complete with guns, swords, spears, chains, whips, hammers, ax's, bows, synths and an endless array of others. The first sound ever made found its home in the armory.

The fourth was a vast warehouse of clothes and jewelry, shirts, pants, shoes, jackets, hats, necklaces, rings and piercings spread all throughout, blissfully organized by those that came before.

Finally at the top was the timekeepers prize, the library, complete with a copy of every book, poem and piece of literature the travelers could get their hands on, stories placed on the internet were copied and stored there as well. The library was multileveled with row upon row upon row of bookshelves on each level.

Suddenly a very lonely feeling wrapped around the traveler as he sat at the table meant for fifty, in a house meant for two hundred and ninety. He sighed and gulped down the last of his food as a mily warm sensation laced up and down his spine.

The traveler swore and sat back in his chair as the feeling came back again, "I get it!" He pushed the chair back and grabbed his jacket, haphazardly swinging it over his body where it came to rest perfectly, its long body hang just past his waist. "I swear time is like a needy girlfriend."

He walked into the entry hall, walking to an end table and picking a black revolver off of it, he spun the gun around and slammed it into his hips holster.