Frozen in Time by Christian Lazzaro

James Beanhog walked down Generlsouth Street looking like he just came out of a sand storm, thick tinted glasses and a rather tight t-shirt covered his body. He limped with every second step he took. PI Beanhog looked around the town square, Macenbourer had told him that the old fella Griswold had a prophecy to share about the Sandstorm Beast of Ahoy. Out of the corner of Beanhog’s eye he could see where the hourglass had once been. He had to dodge the many humans frozen there and then in space and time. Looking at them gave Beanhog more and more motivation to succeed, the people’s life at stake and in his hands. Macenbourer said that Griswold was somewhere under the city centre in a small door, under the gazebo.

Beanhog walked around and around the street till he saw, right in front of him, a small gazebo that managed to stay in one piece. He remembered Macenbourers instructions and gently crept into the gazebo as if it was haunted. There was a family in the gazebo, frozen possibly forever. Their lives were in his hands. Beanhog looked in dismay as he noticed that the kids in the family were happy, running around without a care in the world. The parents gently cut the sandwiches, mum cradling the baby with her hands. All this gave Beanhog overpowering hope to destroy the Sandstorm Beast.

Disguised by a layer of sand was the door that Beanhog was looking for, a wooden trap door with dark rusted bolts. Beanhog opened the door and knelt down to get in, putting one foot in at a time as if there was a poisonous gas inside ready to get unleashed. Inside the room it was dark and damp like a horse stable but without the horses. It smelled like an old musty bookshelf with a strong mustard scent. Every step Beanhog took into the room he regretted it as the smell snuck into the back of his throat and lingering there. When Beanhog got to the bottom of the staircase he could feel layers upon layers of dust under his feet, covering his shoes in a sickening grey color. Beanhog could hear gentle tiptoeing coming from behind him and then the reload of a gun before a sickening, “Hands up”.