Vincent van Gogh Wheatfield under a Cloudy Sky

Vincent van Gogh Wheatfield under a Cloudy SkyClaude Monet Water Lilies 1903Claude Monet Bridge over a Pool of Water Lilies
re out of Time, Mr Bill Door.
The new Death raised his cowl.
There was no face there. There was not even a skull.
Smoke curled formlessly between the robe and a golden crown.
Bill Door raised himself on his elbows.
A CROWN? His voice shook with rage. I NEVER WORE A CROWN!
You never wanted to rule.
The Death swung the scythe back.

And faint outline of a lifetimer, its sand pouring away in a torrent.
The Deaths could just make out, on the glass. the spidery name: Renata Flitworth.
The new Death’s featureless expression became one of terminal puzzlement. It turned to Bill Door.
For YOU?
But Bill Door was already rising and unfolding like the wrath of kings. He reached behind him, growling, living on loaned time, and his hands closed around the harvest scythe.then it dawned on the old Death and the new Death that the hissing of passing time had not, in fact, stopped.The new Death hesitated, and took out the golden glass.It shook it.Bill Door looked into the empty face under the crown. There was an expression of puzzlement there, even with no features actually to wear it; the expression hung in the air all by itself.He saw the crown turn.Miss Flitworth stood with her hands held a foot apart and her eyes closed. Between her hands, in the air in front of her hovered the