Short Story Collection

Clocks

"Tick, tock."

That's all I hear, it's never-ending, constant. I have not a single clue where it's coming from, I have not a single clue where I am, or how I ended up here. I am lost, and very much confused.

The last thing I recall is walking through the woods, as I always did, alone. It was a beautiful day, the first in a long time. Spring had just awaken, bringing his warmth to us, welcoming the sun and excusing winter. The sun beated down on me, but the cool breeze made up for it. Despite how nice it felt outside, I felt differently. Something was wrong, something was off. I began to lose my hearing, my vision as well, and my hands went numb.

I blacked out. It's dark, pitch black, the air is cold and sharp. It tickles my skin, and the hairs on my arm stand.

"Where am I? How long have I been here?"

The tick tocks never stop, I've been hearing them since I woke up in this mysterious place. It's not only annoying, but frightening as well, discomforting. I try my hardest to go back to sleep, maybe it's all some strange dream.

Another day, more ticking. I try to open my eyes, but in this darkness it's hard to tell whether or not my eyes are open. I must find the clock, I cannot stand the ticking any longer. I push myself up from what feels like cement underneath me, searching for something to hold onto, something to open and escape. All I feel is the piercing cold air, and I can't see a thing. It's inexplicable. Where could I possibly be, and where is the clock?

The ticks begin slowing down, once every second, to every two seconds, stopping at every 5 seconds. It progressively gets louder too, from a whisper to a scream.

"Tick," silence.

"Tock," silence.

This continues for what feels like hours, days maybe, at this point I can no longer tell. I'm going mad.

The ticking stops.

"It's finally over."

I open my eyes once again, this time I'm able to see a very little bit of light. I tilt my head down to figure out what the light is shining on... There's the clock. I turn to my right, searching for an exit, but all I'm able to find is an old worn down hammer.

"If I break the clock will the ticking stop?"

"Will I finally wake up?"

Full of both rage and fear, my face is beating red, my hands are cold and trembling, I snatch the hammer from the ground. Without thinking, I aggressively swing away at the clock. It grins at me; it knows it has won.

"I've had enough," I shout, a slight crack in my voice. "I can't take it anymore." Tears begin to fill my eyes.

The first swing causes the clock to drip blood, crimson red, but that doesn't stop me. I continue swinging furiously, each hit causing more and more blood to spew out of the clock, crimson red to black. I stop to look down, feeling the absence of the hammer's weight, and realize the clock is shattered, nothing but bloody glass shards. I am bloody too. The sight of my own blood causes me to grow nauseous, and I struggle to find my own balance. I'm back on the ground.

The glass shards pierce through my skin, a reminder that I'm still alive. Memories like stream drifting viciously through my mind, and I'm a canoe struggling to stay afloat. It's a cinch to lose track of them all. The canoe flips and turns upside down, the right side up again.

I must escape.

I come to the realization that the clock was my life, ticking like a beating heart. Every tick bringing me closer and closer to insanity, closer to my own death.

I must fight.

Using the last of my energy, I carefully feel around for the miniscule shards of the clock that was once whole, and I yank out the ones shoved under my skin. The pain is unbearable. I'm bleeding now more than ever, but I will make it out alive.

I gather all the shattered glass and feel around again, this time for something to piece the clock back together, and I am lucky to find tape. Putting this together is grueling, a thousand piece puzzle. My entire body begins to shake, my breaths shorten and tears begin to fill my tired eyes once again.

I am terrified.

Although I'm terrified and holding onto my life by a very thin thread, I manage to solve the puzzle. My hand lethargically makes its way to the tape and drains all of my energy just to lift it. It's near impossible to do, but the pieces are finally together, the puzzle is complete.

I pass out again.

The screams of my alarm are the reason for my awakening. My heart is still racing when I tear the sheets and heavy quilts off of me, my feet feel gelid when they touch the ground blanketed with snow. I take a big stretch and open my eyes only to find myself in the evergreen forest I had blacked out in.