Prompts, crack and other writing dregs

Clockwork - Practice

Tick. Tick. Tick. The soft denotations of a clockwork silence. The air around me is so still and untainted that the softest sounds of the world living and breathing around me are audible. The faint whirs, clicks and ticks that can only truly be heard and understood when everyone and everything else falls quiet. The sounds, only noticeable with a true and pure silence, are the noises of the machines that surround us and support us make to keep us alive. The faint ticking of tiny gears striking each other is the most calming, in my opinion at least. Not many people seem to appreciate the whispers and voices of these beautiful creations and artworks that are always there and helping; they get no rests and no breaks because it would mean our deaths. I suppose that I can appreciate them because I am one of their keepers; we keepers are unsung heroes, keeping other alive by taking care of that which they take for granted. The true beauty of these machines isn't there looks or sounds, no. The true beauty is in their construction; the ingenuity and intricacy that holds them together and allows them to functions as they do. Our precious and delicate salvation.