The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.”- Albert Einstein.

“Life is all about timing… the unreachable becomes reachable, the unavailable become available, the unattainable… attainable. Have the patience, wait it out It’s all about timing.”- Stacey Charter.

“We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they’re called memories. Some take us forward, they’re called dreams.”- Jeremy Irons.

“Time is the justice that examines all offenders.”- William Shakespeare.

“Hurry! Hurry, before they catch us!” cried a mysterious monk. The much larger figure grunted, and started speeding his pace up. The impatient being started to glance back at the door, and shoved the larger figure ahead.

“Quiet would you? We’ve got thirteen minutes anyways,” snarled the large ominous figure. The impatient monk merely nodded, looking back at the door, waiting for signs of struggle. His four friends were at the gate, awaiting their sinister fate. This was a night of miracles, and the miracle could not afford to be postponed. There was never going to be another chance.

Another minute passed by, no action from the door.

Five minutes, a sudden bang approached.

Ten minutes, a jarring sound was heard from the door. The impatient monk whimpered, “Are we done yet?”

The figure shook his head, preparing the cradle he held. He let his dark brown hair droop to his long hooked nose, as his brown eyes met the grey eyes of the child. The impatient monk slid back his hood, revealing a thin face, blonde hair, and blue eyes.

“FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, ALL WE NEED TO DO IS DROP HIM OFF SOMEWHERE THEY WON’T FIND HIM!” cried the blonde monk. The figure turned his head with a grimace, annoyed by the monk’s pestering. This was just another mission he had to complete. He was French anyway; he could barely understand the English from the monk, obviously annoyed by this man.

It was nearly the last minute; after laying the child to rest, both exited the chapel from the side. A slight movement of the doors, allowed the villagers in, wielding their pitchforks and torches, they dragged the bodies of the four now headless humans in. A large crowd of them searched through the church, while the rest simply mingled with one another.

It took thirteen seconds exactly to find the baby. There was still four seconds till the miracle. A pitchfork was raised in the air.

Three… it was fully in the air, ready to strike.