Seven For A Secret Never To Be Told

1 for sorrow

I dip the silver painted pen in the black, endless ink, then scrape of the excess. My hand crawls to the pristine white piece of paper with my glossed pen, now with dark ink on the point. I sit there for what seems like hours,and look at the bright rimmed clock which has been there for as long as I can remember, and, if I'm correct in my accusation, has never had a battery change, what a strange world we live in, the long finger ticks to show that only a minute has gone by. How odd. I continue to scare at the piece of paper that etches slightly to the left, dragged by a small gust of wind from the slightly cracked window. I moved the paper back to its original position and sigh. The words,'hurry up,' cycle around my head. I sigh once more and put pen to paper, finally. The words i wrote seemed to go on and on and on, yet I didn't use up more then a side of an A4 piece of paper. The minutes suddenly went by like seconds. And seconds flew by like they weren't even there! In, what seemed to be, a minute, I was signing my name at the bottom of a short essay. Then time seemed to stop, and each curve of each letter of my short name took days, and hurt like needles were being jabbed into my hand. It was as if years had gone by the time I had finished the last letter on my surname. I felt exhausted, but I still had so much more to do. I carefully folded the paper in half and slowly slipped it into a red envelope and didn't dare close it yet. I don't know why, it just felt as if I was ending my life there and then closing that letter. So I left it on my desk. I walked over to my bed and fell into onto the soft covers. The time was 9:37 am. I had no idea why I paid so much attention to the detail of the time. I do know, but I'll get to that later. I closed my eyes for a second, and when I opened them, it was 12:56. I jumped off my no longer neat bed, realising that my mother was coming home at 1:00 pm. I raced to my desk in great fatigue and fear and grabbed the letter that I had written only three and a half hours ago and placed it in my desk drawer underneath a pile of paper and a few pens. Then pushed the box filled with things that you do not need to know about yet under the bed and pulled the covers over the edge of the bed, so it looked normal. Then straightened out my bed and put away my pen and ink. And then, laid down on my bed once more thinking that my goal will be completed the next day, and that my mother would go out again. Boy was I wrong. But I didn't know it at the time, and I slowly fell into a dreamless sleep at exactly 1:00 pm, just after I heard keys being messed with outside the front door.
I must go now, I am running out of ink, and I need to go get some more. I continue my tale tomorrow, good bye.