As a child, Caius did not know of the torments and terrors that the villain Time would bring to upon him later in life. For childhood is innocence, and time is not sufficiently understood. Days pass seamlessly from one to another. “Do I play now, or do I play later?” Interruptions for meal-time could be so inconvenient. “Mom, I just want to play!” Caius whined. So much fun to be had, why can’t he stay up later and play past sunset? So Time would leave his childhood alone. “Play, young Caius, do not concern yourself with me right now,” Time said. Because Time was waiting for Caius to get older before he stole moments away. Caius yet lacked comprehension of the vile thing that would betray him in adulthood.
Time slowly began to sneak up on Caius. It took from him little by little, such short moments of insignificance that he hardly noticed. Fleeting moments that added up to the days of his youth were so carefully stolen by Time that he hadn’t even noticed. “Where did those times go?” Caius wondered. Though Time was a villain, Caius was still unaware of the evils it was capable of. It was already hiding, taking things from him, and he didn’t even realize it. But Time waited for the right moment to begin to stealing things that would make Caius cry, precious moments Caius would never be able to have back. That is what Time wanted most. Caius did not realize it yet, but in time, Time would become his enemy.
Maybe it was because Caius looked forward so often, into his future, maybe that was how Time was able to steal so much from him. Caius had ambitions and dreams, and promises to fulfill. So he spent time thinking of the future, ignoring the present. How was Caius to know that Time was sneaking around his back, stealing moments he would need to get to that future? How was he to know that Time could take so many present moments that he would later grieve and yearn for when he didn’t have them? He didn’t realize that everything he built was being taken away, moment by moment, by unforgiving Time. By the time Caius discovered the little thief, it was far too late to do anything. Caius was Time’s victim.
Caius tried to reach up, outstretched hands grasping for his goals and ambitions to be realized. But by now, Time had stolen every past moment from him, leaving him nothing left to stand on, not even a pedestal. Caius could only hopelessly gaze at the pinnacle, look at it from afar, much as he had done before, except now it was out of reach. If he reached too far he would fall. He would never get to touch it, experience it, because Time had taken everything that he would have used to reach it. “Why can’t I reach it!?” Caius yelled. Tears began to stream down his face. Time is a heartless thief. No sympathy for its victims. It was impossible for Caius to reach his dreams, and Time would do nothing to console him.
Caius now hated Time, for all it had taken from him, all it had stolen away. Cowardly, fleeting time, sneaking around, taking with it every presently cherished moment. And more, Time forbade anyone to have those moments return. But Caius had enough of Time’s cruel methods. It was time for Time to be punished, to be shown you can’t take everything from a man without invoking his vengeance. Caius would make Time suffer like he did, he would torture it, leave it helpless, force Time to beg for mercy, tears streaming down its face, like he had so many times before. Time would regret the day it was born, and the very day it decided to become a thief. Caius would consume himself to bring the death of Time.
So Caius fought time. He hunted it down, with an arsenal of weapons to make any vampire hunter jealous. Sufficiently armed and teeth bared, Caius set off into the world, in pursuit of time. Before he left home, he smashed his alarm clock, then the timer in the kitchen, and he cut off his left hand with a machete to get rid of his wristwatch. All of the pieces of time he could not collect littered the dresser and the kitchen counter, his arm and the floor a bloody mess too. Caius walked down the street, entered every business where he knew Time was present, and fired his shotgun at every clock he saw. Not satisfied, he climbed a clock tower, smashed the face of it with his fist, and tried to wind it backwards to get his moments back.