Time Runs Out

pt. 1

2 minutes, 43 seconds

We all stare at the young sophomore girl standing in the middle of the cafeteria, everyone around us watching, silently. The countdown clock above her head ticks down, one second at a time. The teachers and staff stand watching too, because the day when someone's clock reaches zero is a moment that our whole school takes as seriously as an exam.

2 minutes, 18 seconds.

The sophomore girl fumbles with her phone, then holds it up to her ear. We hear her tell her mom goodbye, then her dad. Tells them to tell her little brother goodbye. She puts her phone back in her pocket, and looks around at us.

She has dark brown hair, bright blue eyes. Eyes open wide in fear.

400 high schoolers, surrounding one, lone, wide eyed girl.

1 minute, 12 seconds.

She sits down on the chair closest to her, as her friends timidly approach her, crying, and hugging her. The girl is silent, not moving, not noticing the people around her.

54 seconds, and the clock keeps ticking down. We all back up, not knowing how these final seconds will turn out, even though we know the end result.

With 7 seconds left, the girl raises her head to look at all of us. With the sadness i see in her eyes, I know that she didn't deserve to go so soon.

The holographic timer reaches zero, and the girl's eyes open wide. Her mouth opens, as if she is going to say something, though no sound comes out. Her entire body goes rigid, and she falls off of her chair, body sprawled on the ground. The timer disappears, and the cafeteria is silent.

We all stare at the girl, her eyes still wide open.

The timer is replaced by another holographic image.

"Cause of death: heart attack."

And the image fades away once more.

A teacher walks over, parting the sea of students in her path without even trying. She holds a box with the girl's name carved into it, personalized to her custom size, the box we don't see until our own clock runs out.

The teacher stops in front of the sophomore body. Gently, she closes the girl's eyes, and steps back. She bows her head.

The rest of us follow suit, and we stay like that in the seconds that follow.

When she raises her head, we all do as well, and watch as she lifts the small girl into her box, not any longer that five feet, just long enough to accommodate the girl.

The box is locked shut, and it will stay that way until the visitation. Soon thereafter, it will be taken to the graveyard. We all know this routine, we all knew exactly when it would happen.

Because in this world, there is one aspect of life that is normal, and that is the fact that when anyone else looks at you, they can see one image above your head.

A holographic clock, constantly counting down.

Counting down the years, days, minutes, seconds until your death.

And you can never, ever see your own clock.