There was a clock. A huge clock. A greater clock than any had seen. And there it sat, among the pits and gravestones, and it ticked.
Shadowed figures surrounded the clock. Many of them cried out or fell to their knees in pain. They walked aimlessly looking for anyone who could help them. Who would help them.
There were a few bright figures, their light breathtakingly blinding, among the shadowed. Eventually, one of the shadowed would seek the bright, and they would obtain that light too.
But the bright never sought the shadowed.
Every few minutes, a bell would sound. The announcement of the death of a shadowed being. The death of a being who never found the light.
The shadowed would mourn their brother's death, but only for a little while. They eventually would return to their miserable lives, wondering when their time would come too. So they sat and listened to the ticking of the clock, and then they heard the bell pierce the air again. Another death. They were next.
And yet, the bright beings continued on their merry way without a single acknowledgement of the bell.
Many died without ever finding the light.
YOU ARE READING
The Clock
Short StoryWhat if you had the power to change lives, but you didn't? What if that stranger you met on the street died tomorrow? Life would continue as normal, right?
