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One hour later
One hour later
The room still looks as it had before, the world spins like all is fine, yet I am entirely different due to just one hour. My mind shattered glass. My heart nothing more than a fine powder. My tears diamonds, sharp enough to cut you yet beautiful enough to wear. My makeup dripping much like watercolors painted on a shredded canvas. The picture of you burning a softball sized hole through my chest plate. Memories torn apart by wolves then pieced back together much like puzzles, the clock unphased. The seconds and minutes pass and time never once slows. My mind torn apart, any chance of intelligent thought disintegrates like the time within the last hour. Never will I regain what I lost yet I will continue to scavenge. When the thought of you numbs my mind perhaps it will stop time. If time cannot be stopped perhaps it can be slowed. Hopefully with enough practice time will allow me to straighten out my act. With every passing hour I shatter even more until I waste away to nothing that’s sprawled out on the floor. Then” the room starts to swell to shiver and creak my horrid insanity has reached it’s peak. You speak from your coffin and make Ghoulish demands while through cracking walls reached skeleton hands. Every horror that had swept through my dreams swept this mad laughter to terrified screams! To escape the madness I reach for the door but fall limp and lifeless down on the floor. My voice was weak and very slow as I quoted The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe “and my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor shall be lifted. Nevermore.” The clock teases me and time flies by ,I sit alone and cry. I cry because you are gone. I cry because time will carry on . I’m sorry that I will never get to say these things to you the clock won’t allow it. It has a schedule it must follow. Tic tock Tic tock Tic Tock Tic tock the clock doesn’t stop. On and on it carries. Thoughts like time come and go every thought different than the one before. Every second different than those of the past. You would never think that one single second could carve out a brand new being yet when it does you have no choice but to adapt if you don’t you will drown in the river formed entirely of your fears. Your new image will tear you apart piece by piece until there is nothing left of you. The new image of you is simply a reflection of the version of you that in the seconds prior, never an exact copy. The new version does things that you hadn’t dared to do. The clock still carries on letting you know one day you will be gone. As time passes you slip straight into insanity a mindless game. A game no one is destined to win. A game that only begins again. Trying to slow time never works yet following time has it’s perks. Time has a strict schedule you see, when you follow the clock decides the time added before your demise. The clock does speak and the best advice I can give you is to listen through and through. For if you don’t the clock will haunt your every move. Time will appear to fly by faster than ever before leaving you in a panic. Your days will never seem to end and you will never get a grip and you will never live in the moment just in the past.
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This story is told through the perspectve of a grandfather clock.