Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26373030-20160409022406

''Tick-Tock goes the clock. ''

Have you ever found it strange that when in the company of the bustle of day light, clocks seem to be silent, but late at night when you’re alone, you suddenly become conscious of its noises? As ridiculous as it sounds I was scared of clocks when I was a kid. Stupid I know. I was just creeped out by the fact that people say ‘Clock hands’ and ‘clock faces’. It gave me the childish concept that clocks are living.

''Do not turn away. ''

It’s just I’m sitting here in the silence of my living room and all I can hear is that repetitive tapping of those hands. Getting closer. It’s in the walls; the clocks. My wall is beating on every tap. Like a drum lid.

''Ticking, Tocking is getting louder ''

It started a few weeks ago. I just brought this new grandfather clock. Big old thing, couldn’t get it through the front door on my own. Had to call a mate over to help me. And this thing was loud! Like I could hear its donging and it’s ticking no matter where I was in the house. But when I brought it up with a friend, they said they couldn’t hear it.

''The Ticking’s here to stay… ''

After that I began hearing it at work. I would often complain to my colleagues about it but they thought I was just mad. I began to get secluded from a social life. No one wanted to talk to me.

''Do you hear the ticking? ''

The beating keeps getting louder. Tick, tock, tick, tock. Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment but he said I was fine. He gave me some anti-psychotics. They’re not helping.

''The ticking’s getting near ''

There! Did you hear it? The thud of your ear drum? It starts off like a breath on your ear but gradually grows into a tapping and then poke. It isn’t just a sound, it’s a feeling.

''If you hear the ticking ''

I can’t stop shaking and it’s pretty funny if you think about it. Sound shakes, kinda. It travels as a wave, it vibrates, constantly moving. Sound never stops moving. There is no such thing as silence. There used to be… Before the clocks. Before the clocks there was a harmony. A time where the wind would stop singing and the birds wouldn’t tweet. Where the bugs didn’t move and the grass stopped growing. I’m beginning to wonder if they can hear it. The animals. They haven’t made a noise. I haven’t heard a bird tweet or a cricket chirp.

''Turn away your ear ''

There it is again! Tick, tock, tick, tock. Do you hear it? A second long pause where the noise yields, as if to take a breath from its eternal song.

<p class="MsoNormal">''Do not hear the ticking ''

<p class="MsoNormal">But now I don’t just hear the ticking. No there’s more. The clocks are trying to talk to me. I can hear their whispers in between the ticks. They get louder the closer I am to that big grandfather clock.

<p class="MsoNormal">Whatever else you do 

<p class="MsoNormal">I had a thought. I slowly approached the grandfather at the end of the hall. The ticking got louder but I clenched my teeth. I opened the little door, revealing the pendulum. It thudded and banged from side to side. I reached out my hand, my view became distorted as my outer eyesight became a blur and my hand began to fuzz up. I looked up at the clock face and it began to twist and distort. It blurred and fuzzed and moved and span.

<p class="MsoNormal">''For once you’ve heard the ticking ''

<p class="MsoNormal">I grasped the pendulum, stopping it and silence fell. No more ticking. No more banging and no more noise. Silence. Darkness surrounded my field of vision as my throat closed up and the hands tightened around my neck. I’m choking. I begin to hack and wheeze until I hear my coughs change to: Tick. Tock.

<p class="MsoNormal">''It’ll never stop for you. '' <ac_metadata title="Tick (Feedback WANTED)"> </ac_metadata>