Post by -.Dawn._ on Oct 23, 2008 20:35:06 GMT -5
Indeed. Well uhm..This is like 4,000 + words |D Not a novel though so, and I turned this in to school as a short story sooo C: It looks all jumbled up..but it won't go the 5 spaces out or whatever so yeah >> Sorries.
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August 12th. I sat quietly in my room, knees close to my chest and arms wrapped around them, gripping my shoulders. Unlike most teenagers, I had no clock, no computer with a clock on it, no watches, and no cell phone that showed the time. The reason for this? Simple. I had chronomentrophobia. In simple terms, I was afraid, no, not just afraid, deathly afraid, of clocks. The sight of them drove me crazy, caused my breathe to come in short gasps, and caused my heart to beat like I had just run a mile in the desert. I no longer went to school, there were too many clocks. I no longer went to the mall, there were always clocks there. Throughout elementary school I had been fine, I didn’t have any condition then. It had just recently developed, over the summer actually, but I knew I would never be able to rid myself of it.
June 4th. The day after we got out of school, the day after my last day of 9th grade year, and the last day of school for me, ever. We had planned a fantastic trip to our beach house, one I would never forget. We got there right on time, and I instantly went up the the clock store. This clock store, Big Benjamin, was were I usually spent most of our vacation. I wasn’t a lover of the beach, and I liked how the sound of the hundreds of clocks kept rhythm in my head.
The shop-keeper was very nice. He was an old man, wispy white hair here and there upon his head. He had a very dark voice, but it held a gentle feel to it. This year, it was different. Apparently the old man had died, and now this murderer took over. He practically ended my life, creating my fear.
I knew from the moment that I saw him that he didn’t like me. Those beady black eyes, the way he slicked his hair back and how shiny his shoes were. I think he had an obsession over the clocks, and didn’t like the way how I walked around and touched them all, observing how each one was made. We talked for a few days, and he seemed nice enough, but I could feel his eyes staring at me even after I had left. He didn’t look like he belonged in a clock store, but like he wished he did. He knew I looked like I belonged in a clock store, and wished I was never alive.
I wasn’t the prettiest girl in the school, though I knew I had a few crushers. My hair was deep brown, hints of red here and there. Grey, brown, and green traded places within my eyes, something that many people had been envious over. Many people had told me I carried a shy and innocent look, and in truth I wasn’t a big talker. I liked the lullaby of the clocks, and I actually collected them.
June 10th. My downfall began. It was getting late in the evening, and George, my murderous shopkeeper, put on his hat and told me he had to run an errand or two. I nodded some and gave him a flashing smile before continuing to walk up and down the isles, counting how many clocks were in the store now. I heard the door close, but then I stopped at another noise. It was like a scraping of metal, and caused my eyes to turn towards the door. There stood George, his eyes blazing as he let out a maniacal laugh, “And now, my dear Emily! You will never, ever, leave my store alive again!” He laughed at me, sending a shiver down my spine. I started to run for the back door, all the while his laughter following me. I reached it and pulled, but the knob wouldn’t turn and the door wouldn’t budge. Only this door and front one lead outside, but I knew he was still standing at the front door.
Tears started falling down my face, confusion building up inside of me. What had I done? Would I ever live? Why me? I slowly made my way back to the front door, not seeing him, and tried to open it. It was the same...nothing would move at all. I sat down on the floor, like I was now, and started to bawl. Not even the ticking of the clocks could soothe me now. Quite the opposite actually, it drove me insane. Hours went by, I stared at the biggest clock, placed by the door, seeming to taunt me. It was midnight now...it had been four hours. Why had no one come to look for me? Would my murderer be back? Then suddenly, I began noticing things.
One clock wasn’t working...It was set for two o’clock. This big benjamin clock hadn’t been here before, it had been in the back room, not working. Now it worked, ringing even louder than all the others. I looked back, up and down the rows, scanning each clock. Every other clock was stopped, set at two o’clock. Then suddenly, it hit me. I had first come in here at two on the dot...Two o’clock PM, June 4th. The time I had first seen the creepy shopkeeper. So was he planning on keeping me here until then? Would he come back then? I got up and began searching the store for even more clues, twitching every time the second hand moved on all of the clocks.
I reached the front of the store again and stood there staring at a sign that I could see right outside the door. Closed. He was planning on killing me. He had closed down the store, and was planning on coming back tomorrow, and two in the afternoon, and getting rid of me. As the realization hit me I let out another scream, collapsing on the floor and hugging my knees close to my chest, not being able to keep back the sobs that engulfed me. My family. What had happened to them? Why weren’t they looking for me. What had he told them?!
Eventually, I slipped off in to sleep. I dreamed of the next day, the day I was going to be killed. I dreamed of my family, my little brother, my friends. Would I never see any of them again?
A loud noise outside woke me up the next day, causing my eyes to shoot open and me to jump up as I realized once again what was going on. My eyes shot to the clock looming over me. Ten. I still had four hours until...I couldn’t think about it. What had that noise been? I peered out the window in the door, staring out at the street and the cars zooming past. Then, I couldn’t help myself.
“Help me!” I yelled out, the tears coming again. I pounded on the door, kicking it as hard as I could and screaming at the top of my lungs. The cars didn’t slow down, and I hadn’t expected them to. More and more went by, and by the end of the hour I had lost my voice. The tears were still coming, but I turned from the door, my hands bleeding and my feet throbbing. It was then that I realized, I couldn’t take the clocks any more.
Each time the second hand would move and I could hear it, I twitched. Each time it reached an hour, and all the standing clocks rang out how many hours it was, I was frozen in place, my heart racing. I walked around singing to myself in the loudest voice I could muster, but the ticking wouldn’t go away. Finally, I lost it again.
The first clock crashed against the wall and fell down to the floor, it’s parts clattering to the ground and disappearing under shelves and other clocks. Once I realized how many more there were, I let out a useless yell. I took each of them, one by one, and flung them against the wall, not even stopping to see if I had done any damage. With the bigger clocks, I took both hands and threw them at the wall multiple times, or threw smaller clocks at them. The watches on the shelves were all smashed, those were easy to get rid of. After what seemed like forever, my arms gave out, and I could no longer hurl the ticking terrors at the wall.
I slowly made my way towards the huge clock looming beside the door, staring up as the second hand made it’s way past the three and towards the four. It was now twelve...only two hours left until George came back. There were still clocks in the back ground, ticking away the hours I had left to live. My stomach grumbled in protest of not being fed since dinner last night, but I ignored it. I concentrated on the clock that seemed to be the key to my disaster. I was captivated by it, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from it. It was so nicely carved, so nicely made, that I wanted to destroy it, but I couldn’t. It was like he knew...He knew that I would be sitting here staring at it.
He was wrong. I would not let him defeat me. I would not let him kill me. I went to the side of the clock and pushed against it, straining against it’s weight. After a few moments I felt it budge, and then the weight disappeared. It felt like hours as I watched the great tower fall, but finally it crashed to the ground, the large bell inside ringing out loudly as it hit the ground. I didn’t move, I didn’t blink. Only a few small clocks continued to tick, but this one was gone. The tower that I had slept next to, that I had stared at, it was gone. The one that he had fixed, set up here just to mesmerize, it was gone.
I left the wreckage and went to find one of the clocks that I hadn’t destroyed and carried it back to the door, setting it down and sitting in front of it. This one, I couldn’t take my eyes away from. It was one now, only one more hour until those beady eyes speared themselves through my soul once more. I still wondered about my family. What had he told them? I had gotten captured, I had disappeared? Where they looking for me, or where they mourning my death? I didn’t know, and I didn’t think I wanted to know.
Lost in my thought, I jumped up as I heard the door move, escaping to the back wall and staring at it, watching as it opened. But...where were those beady eyes? Where was the wicked smile, the shoes that were shined to the point of blinding? Instead I stared in to the face of a police officer, a gun pointed at me, but was slowly lowered.
“Emily Smith?” He called, surveying the damage of the shop now. It took me a few moments, but I nodded, not moving from my position clinging to the back wall.
“We found her!” He spoke again, looking behind him. Suddenly a woman’s voice penetrated the air, yelling at people to move out of her way and then appearing in the door.
“Oh Emily!” She called to me, rushing forward and grasping me in her arms, “He said you were dead, he said you were gone. But we didn’t believe him, we didn’t, we couldn’t. They searched everywhere, everywhere. Your brother said you’d be here, but the closed sign! Oh it was horrible! But I told them to look, just in case!” She babbled on, but I didn’t really take in her words. My brother...had saved my life.
“We have to go, mom.” I said quickly now, eyes spotting a clock that had been undisturbed, seeing that it was one-thirty now. She nodded, tears rolling down her face, as she pulled me back through the wreckage and suddenly I was sitting in the back seat of our car. I stared at the back of my dad’s head as he looked ahead, but I could feel my brother’s eyes on my face. My little brother...my eight year old brother...had saved my life. We pulled away as my mom finally finished thanking the police officers, and finally I looked over at Tyler.
“Ty...” I mouthed his name, tears swelling up in my eyes. None of them knew what he had done for me, none of them knew that without him, I would be dead in about ten minutes.
“Hey, Em.” He mouthed back, flashing me his boyish smile, leaning over and hugging me as my tears started. I hugged him back, not letting him go, and let my head fall on his small shoulder. He didn’t understand either, but once he got older, I would tell him what he had done for me.
After I finally let him go, though refused to let go of his hand, I watched the road. All our stuff was packed, we were on our way home, I was free. Then I saw the clock. It was neon green, it had never bothered me before, but as I sat in the back seat and stared at it, hearing a loud ringing every time the minute changed, I shrunk back and closed my eyes, bringing my knees up to my chest and burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t bare to look at it, I just couldn’t. My heart throbbed, I had to force myself to not hyperventilate, and for the longest time I just sat there trying to regain myself.
“Mom...can you turn the clock off?” I muttered, peering up to see her cast a glance back at me. She was about to say something, but as she saw my red eyes and remembered where I had been, she just gave a slight nod and powered it down, turning on the radio now. They didn’t understand then, they thought I’d be over it in a few days. Oh how they were wrong...
June 12th. We were back at home, all was going good. I stayed in my room most of the time, drawing or reading. I had given my watches away, all the collectable clocks I had were thrown away, or I had at least told them to throw them all out in the trash. On my request the clock on the stove was turned off, and the clock hanging on the wall was taken down. There was nothing they could do about the microwave, so I just avoided it and didn’t use it. Tyler and I continued to walk the dog on a regular basis, but he was the one telling me when it was getting too late now.
After he went to bed for school I would often leave the house and keep walking. Our german shepherd didn’t mind, she loved the long walks. We would walk for hours it seemed, stopping here and there to rest. One time I remembered walking until light came, and when I returned to the house my brother was getting ready to go to church. I didn’t go..the clock was too big out in the front. It seemed that I had acquired a case of insomnia as well.
July 1st. None of my friends had called, they believed I was still at our beach house, for we were often gone for a whole month. This day came around, and I got a call from my best friend, wanting to know all about it. I lied. I told her it had been great, and we had had a great time. She wanted to come over tomorrow, and I told her it was fine. The next day, she came. She had a new watch she wanted to show me, but as she walked through my bedroom door and escaped to the very corner, breathing quickly and letting out a yelp. Tyler came from his room, saw my friend, and quickly ushered her out of my room. What a sweet boy... I climbed on to my bed and sat with my knees curled to my chest, staring at the door. I heard them conversing and then my friend came back in, a frown on her face as she came over and sat next to me.
Without her even having to say anything, I explained it all. When I was done, she let out a sigh.
“Well, Emily. It sounds like you have chronomentrophobia.” She said simply, shrugging some like that was a common day word. You see, my friend was very nerdish in the way of phobias. It seemed like she could name every single one in the book. Looking at my expression she gave a slight laugh, “A fear of clocks.” She added, her frown returning, “You lied to me...”
“To protect you.” I mumbled, not being able to look at her.
“But you should know I would’ve understood. I’m your best friend, y’know.” She said, draping an arm over my shoulders and leaning in to me, “I would never have brought that over if I knew.” I just nodded, knowing that she hadn’t done it on purpose.
We talked for a while, and then she left, leaving me alone again. The loneliness was getting to me lately, but I had seemed to get over it. Our dog, Maddie, usually like keeping my company, and Ty enjoyed playing games with me. So all in all, I was slowly getting use to not knowing the exact time, and read books about how the indians use to tell time. It was quite effective, actually.
August 9th. School had started. I tried going, I did try. I clung to my schedule as I walked through the crowded hallways, but everywhere I turned someone was asking what time it was, or if anyone had a watch. Then someone would point to a clock, and as most, I would turn my head, but have to quickly slink away and try to calm myself. It didn’t work. Halfway through the day I used someone’s phone to call my mom, and she came to get me. On the way home she didn’t ask any questions, she seemed to guess. My mother. She had been nothing but generous to me ever since the incident. I supposed that she didn’t quite understand what I felt, but I knew she tried to help. She did everything possible to help me, and only tried to console me when I had ‘moments’, as I heard that she called them. At first she had tried to get me over my fear, but soon had backed off, not wanting to pressure me in to anything. I loved her, and the next day when she called the school and told them that I wouldn’t be attending any more, we hugged for the longest time possible.
August 11th. Another day in my life that was indeed traumatic. My insomnia had kicked in again, and I was out on a midnight walk with Maddie. Under a street lamp a man with a hood stood, and I turned around, planning to just walk back to the house. Ah...how I wished I could’ve just walked back.
“Hello, Emily.” The voice called out to me. It sent a shiver up my spine, freezing me in place and causing Maddie to look up at me and whine. I tried to move, but my feet were glued to the ground. I heard him start moving, Maddie growled, and he stopped. Another noise caught my ears, he pulled something out of his jacket. I let go of Maddie’s leash and yelled at her, telling her to go home. She was too concentrated on protecting me though, and turned and ran at George.
“Maddie!” I choked out, turning around and collapsing to my knees, but it was too late. She looked back at me, but the noise was deafening. A pitiful whine and she was gone, what my world currently revolved around was gone. The tears flowed freely down my face now as I stared at him, watching as he walked over my dog and slowly came near me.
“Dear Emily...” He spoke soothingly, though his voice filled with venom, “You won’t get away from me this time.” He laughed again, once again sending me shivering, my teeth chattering loudly together.
“W-w-what do you want from me? How did you find me?!” I sputtered, trying to crawl backwards but not finding enough strength to.
“It was easy really. I knew where you lived, and there aren’t many Tucker Smith’s around here, y’know. Though it seemed to give me an old address, you school believed I was a relative and helped me retrieve you.” He said, laughing again.
“But what do you want?!” I screamed, slamming my fists down on the pavement and wincing at the pain that came with it. For a moment his beady eyes rested on mine, and I refused to take them away.
“Simple. I want you dead.” With that, he walked away, disappearing in to the shadows. I let out a scream after him, but could only concentrate on my dear Maddie now. I scrambled over to her, my hand finding the bullet wound, and pressed my face in to her fur, crying again.
For what seemed like hours nothing happened, and then the headlights appeared. My dad got out of the car and came over to us, but I didn’t lift my eyes. I could feel myself being moved and I watched as he picked her up, helped me up, and then brought us both to the car. I knew she was still breathing, but barely. The whole way to the vet I had my hand on her head, petting her and pretty much talking to myself. A few hours sitting in the waiting room, and he came out and told my dad she’d be okay. I had long since fallen asleep.
Now I’m sitting here on my bed, staring at Maddie as she sleeps on the floor. I don’t remember it, but somehow we got back here. Once Maddie woke up, I’d go and thank my father, but for now, I wouldn’t leave her side.
Tyler came in when he got back from school, casting a glance down at Maddie and then looking up at me. He said nothing, but walked over, hugged me, pet Maddie for a moment, and then walked off. That sweet boy. His birthday was soon...He deserved something nice.
Maddie woke up and looked up at me soon after, letting out a small whine. I scrambled off of my bed and leaned in to her for a few moments, before getting up and walking out, going to get her food and water. My dad was sitting in his chair watching the news, mom out to get groceries. I paused on my way back, bowls in hand, and cast a glance over to him, “Thanks, dad.” I said, getting a simple nod in return. I let out a sigh and then continued on in to my room, sitting beside Maddie on the floor as she slowly at e and drank.
My father. He was a strange man. I knew he cared about me, it showed every time he looked at me, and every time he saved me. Even so, he barely spoke. He was a strong and tall man with wide brown eyes, which could speak all his emotions without him actually having to say anything. I loved him probably more than I loved my mother, and I think he did love me equally, just showed it in a different way.
August 26th. Tyler’s birthday. I had given mom a sheet of paper to take with her as she went shopping for him a few days ago, what I wanted to get him neatly written on the paper. Now his present was held in my arms as I walked out in to the living room where all his friends were gathered, Maddie close as my heels. His face lit up as he saw me with the blue box, running over and giving me a hug, actually causing me to smile back. I handed him the box and sat down on the floor next to Maddie as he opened it, grinning all the while. He jumped up and held it in his hands, high above his head and all of his friends gasped, “Alleys of Darkness!” They all yelled in unison, reaching up for it as he danced around the room, laughing.
I watched with a smile, laughing and giving him a hug as he came around, then letting him go run around his friends again. Me and Maddie retreated to my room once more, satisfied with the day.
September 13th. I was walking by myself this time. No longer did Maddie walk with me at night, but I still liked walking, it had become my hobby. My father had given me a phone to take with me and call if anything happened, but I still hadn’t looked at it. The clock was pretty large, so I tried to avoid looking at it. If I saw Mr. Creepy-shop-keeper again, somehow I was determined to overcome it though and call my father. He promised to come right away.
All was going fine, until I came to that same street lamp once again. I froze up, staring at the spot where he had been back on that day. I started to back up, but suddenly a hand was on my shoulder.
“No, Emily. You’re not getting away from me this time. Today, you’re dead.” George whispered in my ear, causing me to freeze up even more now. I started to let out a terrified scream, but his hand covered my mouth, and I guessed he pressed a pressure point because I blacked out.
Finally I woke up, staring at a black wall. I couldn’t move, I was tied to the chair. It was then that I realized the noise that had been in my head for months was now real again. I moved my head and looked around the room, accepting slowly what had happened to me. The room was full of clocks, and George was sitting in the corner, leaning back against the wall, a wicked grin on his face.
“Let me go!” I screamed at him, fighting to get out of the chair, but it was useless. He just laughed, got up and walked away, and left me fidgeting in the chair. I closed my eyes and tried to say something, but I lost my voice and suddenly the energy was drained out of me. My breathe started to come in short gasps, and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.
“Why, why, why, why, why?!” I yelled, closing my eyes and balling my hands in to fists. The anxiety overwhelmed me, I couldn’t breathe. I felt my lungs give out, I felt my heart stop. My eyes wouldn’t open, my fingers wouldn’t move. It was useless. I was gone. The clocks...that had overpowered me. The man that had created my phobia against the things that I loved now killed me with it. Clocks...Tick...tock...tick...tock. I could still hear them in my head, but I knew I couldn’t do anything about it. I was long gone, but the sound still haunted me. I didn’t know if anyone would ever find me, or if he would let my body rot slowly in this room. All I knew was that I had died, but the clocks would never stop haunting me.
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August 12th. I sat quietly in my room, knees close to my chest and arms wrapped around them, gripping my shoulders. Unlike most teenagers, I had no clock, no computer with a clock on it, no watches, and no cell phone that showed the time. The reason for this? Simple. I had chronomentrophobia. In simple terms, I was afraid, no, not just afraid, deathly afraid, of clocks. The sight of them drove me crazy, caused my breathe to come in short gasps, and caused my heart to beat like I had just run a mile in the desert. I no longer went to school, there were too many clocks. I no longer went to the mall, there were always clocks there. Throughout elementary school I had been fine, I didn’t have any condition then. It had just recently developed, over the summer actually, but I knew I would never be able to rid myself of it.
June 4th. The day after we got out of school, the day after my last day of 9th grade year, and the last day of school for me, ever. We had planned a fantastic trip to our beach house, one I would never forget. We got there right on time, and I instantly went up the the clock store. This clock store, Big Benjamin, was were I usually spent most of our vacation. I wasn’t a lover of the beach, and I liked how the sound of the hundreds of clocks kept rhythm in my head.
The shop-keeper was very nice. He was an old man, wispy white hair here and there upon his head. He had a very dark voice, but it held a gentle feel to it. This year, it was different. Apparently the old man had died, and now this murderer took over. He practically ended my life, creating my fear.
I knew from the moment that I saw him that he didn’t like me. Those beady black eyes, the way he slicked his hair back and how shiny his shoes were. I think he had an obsession over the clocks, and didn’t like the way how I walked around and touched them all, observing how each one was made. We talked for a few days, and he seemed nice enough, but I could feel his eyes staring at me even after I had left. He didn’t look like he belonged in a clock store, but like he wished he did. He knew I looked like I belonged in a clock store, and wished I was never alive.
I wasn’t the prettiest girl in the school, though I knew I had a few crushers. My hair was deep brown, hints of red here and there. Grey, brown, and green traded places within my eyes, something that many people had been envious over. Many people had told me I carried a shy and innocent look, and in truth I wasn’t a big talker. I liked the lullaby of the clocks, and I actually collected them.
June 10th. My downfall began. It was getting late in the evening, and George, my murderous shopkeeper, put on his hat and told me he had to run an errand or two. I nodded some and gave him a flashing smile before continuing to walk up and down the isles, counting how many clocks were in the store now. I heard the door close, but then I stopped at another noise. It was like a scraping of metal, and caused my eyes to turn towards the door. There stood George, his eyes blazing as he let out a maniacal laugh, “And now, my dear Emily! You will never, ever, leave my store alive again!” He laughed at me, sending a shiver down my spine. I started to run for the back door, all the while his laughter following me. I reached it and pulled, but the knob wouldn’t turn and the door wouldn’t budge. Only this door and front one lead outside, but I knew he was still standing at the front door.
Tears started falling down my face, confusion building up inside of me. What had I done? Would I ever live? Why me? I slowly made my way back to the front door, not seeing him, and tried to open it. It was the same...nothing would move at all. I sat down on the floor, like I was now, and started to bawl. Not even the ticking of the clocks could soothe me now. Quite the opposite actually, it drove me insane. Hours went by, I stared at the biggest clock, placed by the door, seeming to taunt me. It was midnight now...it had been four hours. Why had no one come to look for me? Would my murderer be back? Then suddenly, I began noticing things.
One clock wasn’t working...It was set for two o’clock. This big benjamin clock hadn’t been here before, it had been in the back room, not working. Now it worked, ringing even louder than all the others. I looked back, up and down the rows, scanning each clock. Every other clock was stopped, set at two o’clock. Then suddenly, it hit me. I had first come in here at two on the dot...Two o’clock PM, June 4th. The time I had first seen the creepy shopkeeper. So was he planning on keeping me here until then? Would he come back then? I got up and began searching the store for even more clues, twitching every time the second hand moved on all of the clocks.
I reached the front of the store again and stood there staring at a sign that I could see right outside the door. Closed. He was planning on killing me. He had closed down the store, and was planning on coming back tomorrow, and two in the afternoon, and getting rid of me. As the realization hit me I let out another scream, collapsing on the floor and hugging my knees close to my chest, not being able to keep back the sobs that engulfed me. My family. What had happened to them? Why weren’t they looking for me. What had he told them?!
Eventually, I slipped off in to sleep. I dreamed of the next day, the day I was going to be killed. I dreamed of my family, my little brother, my friends. Would I never see any of them again?
A loud noise outside woke me up the next day, causing my eyes to shoot open and me to jump up as I realized once again what was going on. My eyes shot to the clock looming over me. Ten. I still had four hours until...I couldn’t think about it. What had that noise been? I peered out the window in the door, staring out at the street and the cars zooming past. Then, I couldn’t help myself.
“Help me!” I yelled out, the tears coming again. I pounded on the door, kicking it as hard as I could and screaming at the top of my lungs. The cars didn’t slow down, and I hadn’t expected them to. More and more went by, and by the end of the hour I had lost my voice. The tears were still coming, but I turned from the door, my hands bleeding and my feet throbbing. It was then that I realized, I couldn’t take the clocks any more.
Each time the second hand would move and I could hear it, I twitched. Each time it reached an hour, and all the standing clocks rang out how many hours it was, I was frozen in place, my heart racing. I walked around singing to myself in the loudest voice I could muster, but the ticking wouldn’t go away. Finally, I lost it again.
The first clock crashed against the wall and fell down to the floor, it’s parts clattering to the ground and disappearing under shelves and other clocks. Once I realized how many more there were, I let out a useless yell. I took each of them, one by one, and flung them against the wall, not even stopping to see if I had done any damage. With the bigger clocks, I took both hands and threw them at the wall multiple times, or threw smaller clocks at them. The watches on the shelves were all smashed, those were easy to get rid of. After what seemed like forever, my arms gave out, and I could no longer hurl the ticking terrors at the wall.
I slowly made my way towards the huge clock looming beside the door, staring up as the second hand made it’s way past the three and towards the four. It was now twelve...only two hours left until George came back. There were still clocks in the back ground, ticking away the hours I had left to live. My stomach grumbled in protest of not being fed since dinner last night, but I ignored it. I concentrated on the clock that seemed to be the key to my disaster. I was captivated by it, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from it. It was so nicely carved, so nicely made, that I wanted to destroy it, but I couldn’t. It was like he knew...He knew that I would be sitting here staring at it.
He was wrong. I would not let him defeat me. I would not let him kill me. I went to the side of the clock and pushed against it, straining against it’s weight. After a few moments I felt it budge, and then the weight disappeared. It felt like hours as I watched the great tower fall, but finally it crashed to the ground, the large bell inside ringing out loudly as it hit the ground. I didn’t move, I didn’t blink. Only a few small clocks continued to tick, but this one was gone. The tower that I had slept next to, that I had stared at, it was gone. The one that he had fixed, set up here just to mesmerize, it was gone.
I left the wreckage and went to find one of the clocks that I hadn’t destroyed and carried it back to the door, setting it down and sitting in front of it. This one, I couldn’t take my eyes away from. It was one now, only one more hour until those beady eyes speared themselves through my soul once more. I still wondered about my family. What had he told them? I had gotten captured, I had disappeared? Where they looking for me, or where they mourning my death? I didn’t know, and I didn’t think I wanted to know.
Lost in my thought, I jumped up as I heard the door move, escaping to the back wall and staring at it, watching as it opened. But...where were those beady eyes? Where was the wicked smile, the shoes that were shined to the point of blinding? Instead I stared in to the face of a police officer, a gun pointed at me, but was slowly lowered.
“Emily Smith?” He called, surveying the damage of the shop now. It took me a few moments, but I nodded, not moving from my position clinging to the back wall.
“We found her!” He spoke again, looking behind him. Suddenly a woman’s voice penetrated the air, yelling at people to move out of her way and then appearing in the door.
“Oh Emily!” She called to me, rushing forward and grasping me in her arms, “He said you were dead, he said you were gone. But we didn’t believe him, we didn’t, we couldn’t. They searched everywhere, everywhere. Your brother said you’d be here, but the closed sign! Oh it was horrible! But I told them to look, just in case!” She babbled on, but I didn’t really take in her words. My brother...had saved my life.
“We have to go, mom.” I said quickly now, eyes spotting a clock that had been undisturbed, seeing that it was one-thirty now. She nodded, tears rolling down her face, as she pulled me back through the wreckage and suddenly I was sitting in the back seat of our car. I stared at the back of my dad’s head as he looked ahead, but I could feel my brother’s eyes on my face. My little brother...my eight year old brother...had saved my life. We pulled away as my mom finally finished thanking the police officers, and finally I looked over at Tyler.
“Ty...” I mouthed his name, tears swelling up in my eyes. None of them knew what he had done for me, none of them knew that without him, I would be dead in about ten minutes.
“Hey, Em.” He mouthed back, flashing me his boyish smile, leaning over and hugging me as my tears started. I hugged him back, not letting him go, and let my head fall on his small shoulder. He didn’t understand either, but once he got older, I would tell him what he had done for me.
After I finally let him go, though refused to let go of his hand, I watched the road. All our stuff was packed, we were on our way home, I was free. Then I saw the clock. It was neon green, it had never bothered me before, but as I sat in the back seat and stared at it, hearing a loud ringing every time the minute changed, I shrunk back and closed my eyes, bringing my knees up to my chest and burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t bare to look at it, I just couldn’t. My heart throbbed, I had to force myself to not hyperventilate, and for the longest time I just sat there trying to regain myself.
“Mom...can you turn the clock off?” I muttered, peering up to see her cast a glance back at me. She was about to say something, but as she saw my red eyes and remembered where I had been, she just gave a slight nod and powered it down, turning on the radio now. They didn’t understand then, they thought I’d be over it in a few days. Oh how they were wrong...
June 12th. We were back at home, all was going good. I stayed in my room most of the time, drawing or reading. I had given my watches away, all the collectable clocks I had were thrown away, or I had at least told them to throw them all out in the trash. On my request the clock on the stove was turned off, and the clock hanging on the wall was taken down. There was nothing they could do about the microwave, so I just avoided it and didn’t use it. Tyler and I continued to walk the dog on a regular basis, but he was the one telling me when it was getting too late now.
After he went to bed for school I would often leave the house and keep walking. Our german shepherd didn’t mind, she loved the long walks. We would walk for hours it seemed, stopping here and there to rest. One time I remembered walking until light came, and when I returned to the house my brother was getting ready to go to church. I didn’t go..the clock was too big out in the front. It seemed that I had acquired a case of insomnia as well.
July 1st. None of my friends had called, they believed I was still at our beach house, for we were often gone for a whole month. This day came around, and I got a call from my best friend, wanting to know all about it. I lied. I told her it had been great, and we had had a great time. She wanted to come over tomorrow, and I told her it was fine. The next day, she came. She had a new watch she wanted to show me, but as she walked through my bedroom door and escaped to the very corner, breathing quickly and letting out a yelp. Tyler came from his room, saw my friend, and quickly ushered her out of my room. What a sweet boy... I climbed on to my bed and sat with my knees curled to my chest, staring at the door. I heard them conversing and then my friend came back in, a frown on her face as she came over and sat next to me.
Without her even having to say anything, I explained it all. When I was done, she let out a sigh.
“Well, Emily. It sounds like you have chronomentrophobia.” She said simply, shrugging some like that was a common day word. You see, my friend was very nerdish in the way of phobias. It seemed like she could name every single one in the book. Looking at my expression she gave a slight laugh, “A fear of clocks.” She added, her frown returning, “You lied to me...”
“To protect you.” I mumbled, not being able to look at her.
“But you should know I would’ve understood. I’m your best friend, y’know.” She said, draping an arm over my shoulders and leaning in to me, “I would never have brought that over if I knew.” I just nodded, knowing that she hadn’t done it on purpose.
We talked for a while, and then she left, leaving me alone again. The loneliness was getting to me lately, but I had seemed to get over it. Our dog, Maddie, usually like keeping my company, and Ty enjoyed playing games with me. So all in all, I was slowly getting use to not knowing the exact time, and read books about how the indians use to tell time. It was quite effective, actually.
August 9th. School had started. I tried going, I did try. I clung to my schedule as I walked through the crowded hallways, but everywhere I turned someone was asking what time it was, or if anyone had a watch. Then someone would point to a clock, and as most, I would turn my head, but have to quickly slink away and try to calm myself. It didn’t work. Halfway through the day I used someone’s phone to call my mom, and she came to get me. On the way home she didn’t ask any questions, she seemed to guess. My mother. She had been nothing but generous to me ever since the incident. I supposed that she didn’t quite understand what I felt, but I knew she tried to help. She did everything possible to help me, and only tried to console me when I had ‘moments’, as I heard that she called them. At first she had tried to get me over my fear, but soon had backed off, not wanting to pressure me in to anything. I loved her, and the next day when she called the school and told them that I wouldn’t be attending any more, we hugged for the longest time possible.
August 11th. Another day in my life that was indeed traumatic. My insomnia had kicked in again, and I was out on a midnight walk with Maddie. Under a street lamp a man with a hood stood, and I turned around, planning to just walk back to the house. Ah...how I wished I could’ve just walked back.
“Hello, Emily.” The voice called out to me. It sent a shiver up my spine, freezing me in place and causing Maddie to look up at me and whine. I tried to move, but my feet were glued to the ground. I heard him start moving, Maddie growled, and he stopped. Another noise caught my ears, he pulled something out of his jacket. I let go of Maddie’s leash and yelled at her, telling her to go home. She was too concentrated on protecting me though, and turned and ran at George.
“Maddie!” I choked out, turning around and collapsing to my knees, but it was too late. She looked back at me, but the noise was deafening. A pitiful whine and she was gone, what my world currently revolved around was gone. The tears flowed freely down my face now as I stared at him, watching as he walked over my dog and slowly came near me.
“Dear Emily...” He spoke soothingly, though his voice filled with venom, “You won’t get away from me this time.” He laughed again, once again sending me shivering, my teeth chattering loudly together.
“W-w-what do you want from me? How did you find me?!” I sputtered, trying to crawl backwards but not finding enough strength to.
“It was easy really. I knew where you lived, and there aren’t many Tucker Smith’s around here, y’know. Though it seemed to give me an old address, you school believed I was a relative and helped me retrieve you.” He said, laughing again.
“But what do you want?!” I screamed, slamming my fists down on the pavement and wincing at the pain that came with it. For a moment his beady eyes rested on mine, and I refused to take them away.
“Simple. I want you dead.” With that, he walked away, disappearing in to the shadows. I let out a scream after him, but could only concentrate on my dear Maddie now. I scrambled over to her, my hand finding the bullet wound, and pressed my face in to her fur, crying again.
For what seemed like hours nothing happened, and then the headlights appeared. My dad got out of the car and came over to us, but I didn’t lift my eyes. I could feel myself being moved and I watched as he picked her up, helped me up, and then brought us both to the car. I knew she was still breathing, but barely. The whole way to the vet I had my hand on her head, petting her and pretty much talking to myself. A few hours sitting in the waiting room, and he came out and told my dad she’d be okay. I had long since fallen asleep.
Now I’m sitting here on my bed, staring at Maddie as she sleeps on the floor. I don’t remember it, but somehow we got back here. Once Maddie woke up, I’d go and thank my father, but for now, I wouldn’t leave her side.
Tyler came in when he got back from school, casting a glance down at Maddie and then looking up at me. He said nothing, but walked over, hugged me, pet Maddie for a moment, and then walked off. That sweet boy. His birthday was soon...He deserved something nice.
Maddie woke up and looked up at me soon after, letting out a small whine. I scrambled off of my bed and leaned in to her for a few moments, before getting up and walking out, going to get her food and water. My dad was sitting in his chair watching the news, mom out to get groceries. I paused on my way back, bowls in hand, and cast a glance over to him, “Thanks, dad.” I said, getting a simple nod in return. I let out a sigh and then continued on in to my room, sitting beside Maddie on the floor as she slowly at e and drank.
My father. He was a strange man. I knew he cared about me, it showed every time he looked at me, and every time he saved me. Even so, he barely spoke. He was a strong and tall man with wide brown eyes, which could speak all his emotions without him actually having to say anything. I loved him probably more than I loved my mother, and I think he did love me equally, just showed it in a different way.
August 26th. Tyler’s birthday. I had given mom a sheet of paper to take with her as she went shopping for him a few days ago, what I wanted to get him neatly written on the paper. Now his present was held in my arms as I walked out in to the living room where all his friends were gathered, Maddie close as my heels. His face lit up as he saw me with the blue box, running over and giving me a hug, actually causing me to smile back. I handed him the box and sat down on the floor next to Maddie as he opened it, grinning all the while. He jumped up and held it in his hands, high above his head and all of his friends gasped, “Alleys of Darkness!” They all yelled in unison, reaching up for it as he danced around the room, laughing.
I watched with a smile, laughing and giving him a hug as he came around, then letting him go run around his friends again. Me and Maddie retreated to my room once more, satisfied with the day.
September 13th. I was walking by myself this time. No longer did Maddie walk with me at night, but I still liked walking, it had become my hobby. My father had given me a phone to take with me and call if anything happened, but I still hadn’t looked at it. The clock was pretty large, so I tried to avoid looking at it. If I saw Mr. Creepy-shop-keeper again, somehow I was determined to overcome it though and call my father. He promised to come right away.
All was going fine, until I came to that same street lamp once again. I froze up, staring at the spot where he had been back on that day. I started to back up, but suddenly a hand was on my shoulder.
“No, Emily. You’re not getting away from me this time. Today, you’re dead.” George whispered in my ear, causing me to freeze up even more now. I started to let out a terrified scream, but his hand covered my mouth, and I guessed he pressed a pressure point because I blacked out.
Finally I woke up, staring at a black wall. I couldn’t move, I was tied to the chair. It was then that I realized the noise that had been in my head for months was now real again. I moved my head and looked around the room, accepting slowly what had happened to me. The room was full of clocks, and George was sitting in the corner, leaning back against the wall, a wicked grin on his face.
“Let me go!” I screamed at him, fighting to get out of the chair, but it was useless. He just laughed, got up and walked away, and left me fidgeting in the chair. I closed my eyes and tried to say something, but I lost my voice and suddenly the energy was drained out of me. My breathe started to come in short gasps, and my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.
“Why, why, why, why, why?!” I yelled, closing my eyes and balling my hands in to fists. The anxiety overwhelmed me, I couldn’t breathe. I felt my lungs give out, I felt my heart stop. My eyes wouldn’t open, my fingers wouldn’t move. It was useless. I was gone. The clocks...that had overpowered me. The man that had created my phobia against the things that I loved now killed me with it. Clocks...Tick...tock...tick...tock. I could still hear them in my head, but I knew I couldn’t do anything about it. I was long gone, but the sound still haunted me. I didn’t know if anyone would ever find me, or if he would let my body rot slowly in this room. All I knew was that I had died, but the clocks would never stop haunting me.