Thomas Kinkade Beacon of hope

Thomas Kinkade Beacon of hopeThomas Kinkade The Sea Of TranquilityThomas Kinkade The Beginning of a Perfect Day
'Um. Thank you,' said Mort. He held the hourglasses up to the light, noting the one that was on its very last few grains of sand.
'Does this mean I'm in charge?' he called, but Death had turned the corner.
Binky Behind them Cutwell burst out of his doorway, accelerating down the frosty street with his robes flying out behind him.
Now the horse was cantering, widening the distance between its hooves and the cobbles. With greeted him with a faint whinny of recognition. Mort mounted up, his heart pounding with apprehension and responsibility. His fingers worked automatically, taking the scythe out of its sheath and adjusting and locking the blade (which flashed steely blue in the night, slicing the starlight like salami). He mounted carefully, wincing at the stab from his saddlesores, but Binky was like riding a pillow. As an afterthought, drunk with delegated authority, he pulled Death's riding cloak out of its saddlebag and fastened it by its silver brooch.He took another look at the first hourglass, and nudged Binky with his knees. The horse sniffed the chilly air, and began to trot.