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Time, Time, Time What Has Become of Me

Helen

Clocks scare me. They take away your life minute by minute. They impose a constraint upon the world by chopping day and night into little bits of time. Ruling with an iron hand how we live our lives. These thoughts churned round and round in my head as I lay in the dark watching the red minute balefully tick over on my digital clock. Sleep, I begged for sleep.

Suddenly I was running through a upside down, inside out world. All I could hear was the ticking clock, tick, tick, tick, tick. My feet had to keep moving while I heard that sound. Minute by minute by minute by minute; every part of me was tied into the toiling down of time. I had to keep moving if I stopped catastrophe would occur. The colours became a kaleidoscope twirling and moving and changing. And still I ran and ran and ran.

At the edge of my vision I could see the spiral of time spinning off into infinity as diamond tears fell in sorrow of the loss of time. In front of me opened an eye that encompassed the universe. I ran in through the pupil down a gullet like dark tunnel and the ticking became louder, until the ticking became the tunnel and I ran along the edge of the pupil in a circular path until the tear washed me down into oil slick puddle of colour. “Time, time, time; see what has become of me.”

They watched; those that set the ticking into motion. The world on clockwork gears winding down to entropy and through this mechanical motion I ran as the tick, tick, tick set the pace of my feet. If I stopped running the world would fall apart. Inside my chest a clock wound down the moment of my life in the beat of my heart; tick, tick, tick.

Suddenly I came to a stop. Shrill noise buzzed through my head as the alarm woke me up.

Another day chopped up into hours and minutes and I was more tired than before I slept.

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