Short Story Collection

Countdown

The room was silent except for the sound of ticking.

The inexorable tick, tick, tick. Relentless. Inescapable. He started to panic, feeling as if the walls were closing in on him. How long could he last? Then the ticking stopped and deathly silence filled the air, broken only by the subdued sound of his breathing, muffled by the room he was standing in. Slowly, a door opened in front of him, creaking on unoiled hinges. He carefully crept out through the door and into another room identical to the last. He turned around just in time to see the door slam shut behind him with a dull thud.

The room was silent except for the sound of ticking.

He was stuck in an endless nightmare. The constant tick, tick, tick offering no respite. It was the same again and again. A cycle, ceaselessly repeating with no escape. He had been here for three hours and was starting to grow tired already. He needed to get out and soon. The ticking stopped, a door opened and he slowly walked through, waiting for the thump that would signify the door closing but it never came. Instead, there was a gentle humming and then a swish as a modern looking, electric door slid across, barring the way he had come from.

The room was silent except for the sound of ticking.

He kept wandering through the endless labyrinth of rooms all the same. The monotonous drone of the tick, tick, tick filling the background. No difference as the hours drew on, as they changed into days. The infinite flow of time, marked only by the tick, tick, tick. The unstoppable course of misery his life had turned into ever since the day he had been brought to this wretched place. He still remembered it. The hands, so cold, like ice, grabbing him. All his struggling was futile. Now here he was. If only he had been able to get away then. His only chance was to see this torture through to it's end. The ticking stopped and another door opened. He walked through.

The room was silent except for the sound of ticking.

The incessant tick, tick, tick followed him everywhere, from room to room to room. He stood alone in the centre of a small chamber wondering how to proceed. Then the ticking stopped. A door opened except this time it didn't lead into an identical room. An unlit passage lay beyond, leading off into the black unknown. He went in and started walking, his hands out in front of him. He stumbled blindly along until his hands hit something solid. He had reached the end of the tunnel. He felt around for some way out, for some way to end it. There was nothing. He couldn't keep going like this. Not anymore. Defeated, he slid down the wall, fading into unconsciousness.

The room was silent except for the sound of ticking.