Ticking Clock
Ticking
Clock
The ticking of a clock is not something you normally
notice, but when you are alone, it is the little things that catch your
attention. But at that moment, with the sheets wrapped around my legs, it was
the clock that captivated me. It is amazing how long one can listen to a clock
tick, imagining the inner mechanism, especially when a distraction is welcome.
For distraction is a beautiful thing to someone who is distressed.
Sluggishly, I pulled the entangled sheets from my body, experiencing a cool
rush of air on my now uncovered legs. With a hunched back, I walked by a
disheveled mess of clothes and through incandescent waves of the sunset’s last
rays seeping through cracks in the shutters. Sunlight whose ethereal beauty did
not register in my disturbed mind. Normally, food is an excellent way to
redress a situation, but on occasion, a person can feel a pain so searing that
even the most nourishing form of comfort fails.
“What am I to do?” I whispered to myself. No one else was
in the house to hear these words, but paranoia persisted in my mind. Because if
someone did hear, I would have to explain what it was that plagued me to such
an extent. And then it would all be over. Slowly, I mustered the energy to
prepare a meager meal, forcing myself to masticate the flavorless food and
swallow it. Even in a completely healthy body, an unhealthy mind can bring upon
the symptoms of a horrid illness. All I wanted to do was to sleep, but the full
heat wave of guilt would doubtlessly chase me there as well. I looked at the
Rolex watch, perched in total aesthetic perfection on the mantelpiece, a
perfection marred by the absence of any ticking. The numerous functions on the
wondrous mechanical machine had ceased to operate. The timepiece was
nothing that I could afford, yet it lay on a cloth, in my possession. Two days
earlier, hours before I attended a party, the watch had functioned to the
caliber of the finest Swiss horologists. I had been admiring it on my friend’s
wrist, and inquired about it.
“Oh, this,” my friend asked, trying to appear casual. “This is
something I am really proud of…”
He went on to list a
model number too long to remember, the various functions too many to list, as
well as the purity of the platinum and gold used to construct the watch. By the
time his explanation had concluded, I was brimming with admiration for the
intricacy, bordering on art, of the jewelry that lay on his wrist.
Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Hey, could I wear
that tonight?”
There was an
uncomfortable silence.
“Never mind, I’m sorry. I just really…”
“No, it’s fine. Yeah… Sure, you can wear it.” He
unclasped the watchband, gingerly, as if damage could come to his prized
possession from this simple act. Slowly, he handed the horological masterpiece
to me, and I placed it on my own wrist, in wonder.
“Thanks... Thank you…I…”
That was all that I could muster. Two hours later I was
at the party, a tumultuous crowd of people jostled me around. After a few
moments of this, I felt an immense urge to distance myself from the abundant
bodies. Once on the edge of the crowd, finally with enough air to breath
freely, a drunken fool threw me from my feet, whereupon my wrist smashed into a
table. Instantly, my attention went to the watch. On the outside, it bore no
scars from the beating, but the seconds hand had ceased to move. I left the
party in a state of panic, driving around in confusion. Eventually, I found
myself in front of a store, characterized by a dirty sign that read
“Wersten’s”, in the seediest neighborhood I had ever been in. Inside, there was
a row of watches. I showed the cashier mine.
“Do you have something like this?” I was nearly crying from
desperation at this point.
“Oh, yeah we got a bunch of those.” He replied.
My relief was visible when he pulled an identical
timepiece out from the cabinet. The price was much too low for a Rolex watch,
but much exceeded what I could normally afford. The following sequence of
events was predictable, I bought the watch and, while sweating profusely while my
nerves were doing somersaults, I presented it to my friend. I felt a great
relief when he accepted it, a relief that lasted for the remainder of the day.
At dusk, I again heard the ticking of my bedroom clock and was reminded of the disconcerting
deed I had performed. Now, I wallowed in
the putrefaction of my own guilt. My morality was at stake. Would I act like a
shallow fellow who was only concerned about what others perceived me to be, or
did my own self-respect matter more? The first option tempted me, like the
vibrant pink in the center of a Venus flytrap, for what self-respect could I
salvage after I had condemned myself from the start with my terrible deed. Yet,
even if I could salvage just a little respect, would that mean more than the
entire world’s perception of me? I walked into the bathroom and stared into my
own bloodshot eyes. Examining the face of someone who I had seen many times
before without disdain, yet now I felt immensely repulsed by. Yes, repulsed by
myself. I had sunk so low that even my own morality separated itself from me. I
grabbed my coat, and rushed outside. Maybe the fate of my soul could be
repaired.
I drove to my friend’s house. As soon as he opened the
door I blurted, “That watch on your wrist. It’s fake!”
“Aww man how did you know?”
“What?” I replied.
“What?” I replied.
“Yeah, I got it over at
a shop called Wersten’s a couple days ago.”
Labels: NathanS
5 Comments:
Great job. Excellent vocabulary and descriptive language, as well as having a good ending. Nice hook too, it really drew me in. It was a good example of showing not telling because I felt like I was there with you when you were driving around, buying the watch, listening to the clock, etc. Overall, a great, captivating story that was interesting to read.
This is a really cool and interesting piece. The ticking is a very nice way to pull the reader through the story and the internal conflict of the main character was really well written. You "showed" through out the work very well, and it was really an interesting read. I liked it a lot, well done!
I love the sensory detail you use to describe everything.
There is never a dull moment. You do a great job of captivating the reader.
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