Everyone in my family is assigned an hourglass when they are born. Pt.2

Pt.1: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/com..._an_hourglass/
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Fifty two hours and twenty four minutes after my brother's passing, we held his funeral service at my parents' church. Mom sobbed repeatedly, nestling her head into my father's chest as he held her. Toni, Horace's wife, wore sunglasses, her head bowed, a Bible clenched in her hands. Their children, twins Clara and Octavia, were teary-eyed as they stared up at the latest family friend to give his testimony. Behind him, on the wall, a clock held my attention. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tim was seated next to me, looking as uncomfortable as a hyena in a pride of lions. He was fidgety, looking here and there, tugging irritatedly at his tie and collar. This was the first time he had been to church in years. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, my fists clenched so hard in my pockets it was a surprise I hadn't cut off my own circulation. Tim was muttering under his breath, and I distinctly heard the word "bull****." Maybe we were the hyenas and he was the lion.
After we put my brother in the ground, Toni ran up to me before I could make my escape in my Ford Explorer. "Hey, Daniel, can I have a word?"
Tim and I both stopped to look at her. Toni glanced down at him. "Alone."
Tim rolled his eyes and continued strolling towards the car. Toni's eyes were puffy and red. her make-up ruined.
"I'm sorry, again," I said, my voice sounding more uncaring and dead than I intended. Toni shook her head, staring down at the ground.
"He was your brother...listen, Daniel, he told me about the hourglasses."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. What do you call them? The Venerations or something like that?"
I grimaced. "Venerated Ones."
Toni sniffled. "Yes, well, I know all about them. Horace...Horace told me about them before we had the girls. I have a simple request for you, Daniel. I want you to get rid of mine too. I don't care if it means I'll die painfully or whatever...just break mine or burn it or whatever you have to do. I just can't...I can't go on...anymore..." She had broken down into tears. I held her, looking over her shoulder. My nieces were standing near their father's resting place, watching us. I shook my head, glancing down at the ground.
"It doesn't work that way, Toni. You don't have an hourglass. And even if you did...you can't leave the girls behind. They need you more than anyone right now. Okay? You have to be strong for them. Whatever Horace told you...forget about it. The hourglasses are in good hands."
Tim honked the horn of the car obnoxiously behind me.
I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. The alarm clock ticked away painfully on my bedside. Maybe I had been mistaken. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was the true monster...I was the reason my son may have been cursed to live forever. I was really going to let my brother murder my adolescent son in his sleep...then what? Would I have taken the fall as well, when the authorities did their investigating and discovered the true nature of Tim's death? I didn't know. What I did know, however, is that Horace had been murdered. The suspects were low in number.
Toni knew about the Venerated Ones. But what had she to gain, besides a relatively small amount of money, by killing Horace? She had seemed pretty dire at the funeral as well...so I counted her out. Horace's girls were only twelve years old, and I wasn't sure if he had ever gotten around to telling them about the hourglasses. Mom and dad knew, but again, what was there to gain? The last person left was...my son. His uncle had attempted to smother him in his sleep, so he was the most likely to have a vendetta. The only problem? The fact that I had never spoken a word about the hourglasses to him before. How would he have known anything about them, and how would he have known which one was Horace's? That last part is what frightened me the most. It made me think of...the Timekeeper. Whoever or whatever it was.
"Dad?"
I jerked up slightly, glancing at my open door. Tim was standing there, rubbing his eyes and feigning tiredness.
"Hey, sport. What's up?"
"I had a bad dream...can I sleep with you tonight?"
Every ounce of me wanted to say no, but fatherly instinct kicked in. "Sure thing. Come on."
Tim climbed into bed with me and turned his back to me. The two of us lay there in silence for a few seconds before I decided to prod at him.
"You okay, buddy?"
"Yeah. Just a bad dream is all."
"What was it about?" I asked tentatively. Tim turned and looked me right in the eye.
"Uncle Horace."
I hoped my eyes didn't betray me. I had to put on the surprised and concerned act.
"Oh yeah? I'm sorry, Timmy. I know his death was sudden but...but it's all gonna be okay."
Tim still hadn't turned away from me. "I had a dream that he tried to kill me. He put a pillow on my face and he wouldn't let go. Why would I have a dream like that, Dad?"
"I don't know, buddy. You know your uncle would never have hurt you."
Tim and I continued to look at each other for another few seconds, and then he turned around, yawning. "I'm tired now. Good night Dad."
That night, I had a bad dream of my own. I could see two babies, sitting next to each other, facing me. Behind them, a massive clock's hands began spinning madly. The babies aged up rapidly, turning into a man and woman. Eventually, seven more babies appeared and aged up as well. The hands on the clock continued to spin. The man, the one who had been the first baby, now had a pained expression on his face. His skin was suddenly ripped from his body by some unseen force, leaving him red and exposed. Still the clock spun on, dizzying me as I stared in horror.
The woman turned to dust and so did her children, but not before more babies sprung up. These babies lasted all but three seconds; Many of them vanished, their screams lost in the throes of time; the numbers adjusted so that there were no more than nine beings at a time. The cycle continued, as generation after generation sprung to life and died out, like a thousand candle flames.
I went and visited my father the next day. Mom was in the bedroom, dealing with her grief in private. Dad looked like he hadn't slept in days; He walked sluggishly, his face seemed to sag, and his eyes were bloodshot. It tore me up just looking at him. But things weren't right. This conversation had to happen.
"Dad...I hate to say this, but things aren't right. I checked the Venerated Ones after Horace died. His was smashed on the floor."
My father glanced at me sharply, dropping his beer on the floor. "Smashed? But how?"
Our shadows were cast across the livingroom, the sun setting just outside the window. I set my own beer down and clasped my hands in front of me, looking intently at my father. "Tell me more about this...Timekeeper. Dad, please, if we are to be prepared, if we are to overcome this...you have to tell me everything."
Dad stared at me for a few seconds longer, and then he sat back in his chair, closing his eyes.
"I only know the more gruesome details because my grandfather was quite the grim old man. I kept it from you and Horace because I didn't deem it...necessary. But there was more to our ancestor and his deal. You see...he tried to outsmart the Timekeeper. That only resulted in complete and utter agony. His soul was ripped from his body, as was his skin. The leather on the table in the attic? It isn't leather, son. His hide has been forced to bear the nine fates of his descendants. The Timekeeper has a twisted sense of humor."
Dad got up and grabbed another beer. He took a few swigs before continuing his tale. "His children were fools. They kept having children...but each babe was claimed by the Timekeeper, for only nine can live at a time. It led to utter turmoil in the family. Some turned to murder, others to suicide. It took a long while before we finally learned to keep the tree nice and trimmed."
"I'm as much a fool as they were," I murmured quietly. I looked my father in the face. "When Timothy was born, I flipped his hourglass back over. Not a single grain of his sand has been sifted."
My father was looking at me like he never had before. I could see terror etched in every line of his face, his mouth hanging open in horror.
"Daniel...you know not what you've done! I should have known...that explains everything..."
"Tell me, what can I do to fix it? How can I save my son?"
My father's eyes were cold and lifeless. "He isn't your son. The Timekeeper seized his soul the minute you flipped his hourglass. Something else took up residence in his empty vessel. We must end him!"
My father made a mad dash for the stairs. It was the fastest I had seen him move in years. We ascended the ladder to the attic and approached the purple curtain that concealed the Venerated Ones. My father yanked the curtain aside, and for the first time in a long time, the two of us gazed at the family heirlooms.
Something wasn't right. Horace's hourglass remained in fragments on the floor, but of the eight remaining, five continued to sift black sand.
"Did...did you flip one of these when you last came up here?" my father asked, clearly just as shocked as I was. I shook my head.
"No...I didn't even look at them, I was so focused on Horace's..."
It was clear which hourglass had been flipped most recently, due to the massive amount of sand leftover in it. But to whom did it belong? Most concerning, however, was the fact that one of the hourglasses was just running out of sand. Someone would be dead in the next few seconds.
"Dad-" That was the last thing I remember before everything went black.


Source.