The Ageless Truth

The Hurting of Time

Salvador Dali, "The Persistence of Memory".

. . .

     The alarming sound rung through her slumbered ears. Her once lifeless body rose to the dimly lit sky, and her feet ached while they touched the cold floor. The oak floor that was beneath her creaked while she walked around to begin the day. The cold water hits her drained face with her lean body bent over the sink. Her wrinkled eyelids droop down, and the once perked up shoulders slouch back down into the drowsiness. That are now rested with her body in a coma.

     Her eyes flicker open with panic to her surroundings. Total darkness, no sound, no movement, so she was not able to feel, hear and see. Her distress heart starts racing with panic, so she takes a few steps closer to black, but a mirror appears with a bronze, vast clock hurting away on an old tree branch. She slowly approaches both of the items. The mirror is slightly cracked, but the hands of the clock are frozen. She looks into the mirror to see a little, young girl in front of her. The reflection opens her mouth, and the inside of the young girls mouth appears to contain flies. 

     The alarming sound rings through her slumbered ears. Her once lifeless body rose to the dimly lit sky, and her aching feet touch the cold floor. The oak floor creaks beneath her while she walks around to begin the day. A bronze, vast clock hangs on the dark, green walls of the bathroom. The hands tick away while she runs out of time to get ready for the day.

. . .