Daily #6 The Clock Ticks Twice

Aaaaand we're back!

I apologize for my absence; I've been in transit, and am now set up in my pad in NY. (pics coming tomorrow)

As I mentioned in my last post, writing is going to be a big focus for me this summer. I'm guessing the composition of this blog is going to be about 50/50 (writing / design) for while. While I'll be doing a lot more than 50% design in real life, most of it will be at my internship, and therefore proprietary.

So, as I have yet to inaugurate my new place with a sketch session, today's post is literary.

This is my stab at a horror story (pun very much intended)



The Clock Ticks Twice


"Sir, are you gonna stare at it all day or sign the damn paper?" The delivery man was getting anxious.
"Who sent this?" I asked.
"Sir, I already told you, I don't know. It's probably just cookies from your mom or something, now will you sign this so I can get moving?" said the delivery man, thrusting the form towards me. I took it from him and scribbled something by the X. It may have been my name, I'm not entirely sure. I cautiously took the package and shut the door. It was dark in my house, all the curtains were drawn, and the electricity shut off two days ago. They think they can wiretap me? Not if I don't have any phones they can't!
Pushing aside empty Chinese cartons and a stack of newspapers, I placed the package on the table. I paced around it for a few minutes before sitting down, examining it closely. It was ordinary enough: brown paper with my address neatly printed on the top. Floral postage stamps were placed in the corner, and a red [FRAGILE] was stamped directly over my name. After several more minutes of deliberation, I decide to open the box. Grabbing my pocket knife, I cut along the top centerline where the two flaps meet. I slowly dragged the dull blade, listening intently as the paper tore. I repeated this process for the sides, and flipped open the box.
What I had been certain was a thermally activated bomb or a lethal amount of airborne toxin turned out to be a rather plain pocket watch, set inside a wooden cigar box, and buried beneath layers of crumpled newspaper. I took it out and gripped the silver chain, letting the watch sway slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. As it crossed its pendular path, I started to notice the subtle tick-tock it emitted. This added to the hypnotic effect and soon, I was entranced by the glistening silver charm.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.
Tick-tick-tick.
Wait, what was that? I thought, halting the clock's movement and examining the face closer. It seemed normal now, but I swear I heard an irregularity. I paid close attention to the face as the second hand made its dutiful revolution.
Tock - 43, tick - 44, tock- 45, tick - 46 - tick - 46 - tick -47...
As the watch added a beat, my heart skipped several. This watch was faulty, defective, deranged. Who would send this to me? One extra second for each minute. An extra minute to an hour. How soon until my day is night? Until I lose all perception of time? Who would wish this on me? Was it the 'delivery man'? No, no, he's no mastermind, then who?
My delusions and rants took me late into the night. I paced, I pondered, and each time this infernal clock double-ticked my mind raged. I've got to get rid of it, I told myself, each time the clock ticked twice, Gone, before it gets me.

My mind made up, I made my way, purposefully, to the table, where the devil's timepiece waited.
"I'm casting you out, demon!" I shouted.
Tick-tick-tick, the watch replied.
"DON'T MOCK ME!" I reached for the watch, intent on hurling it as far out the window as I could. As I grasped the sterling trinket, however, a searing pain shot through my hand.
"AAAGGGH!" I yelled, grasping my hand in agony. As I collapsed to the floor, the watch sat calmly on the table, looking down at me, no, glaring down at me.
It was several minutes before I could muster the strength to stand.
"Alright then, If that's how you're going to act, I'll destroy you right here!"
I marched out of the room, and from my bedroom dresser, grasped my salvation. I bought the .9 mm pistol last week, when I first suspected sabotage, and now, I would use it to blast that damned chrome curse out of my life.
When I returned to the kitchen, however, the watch was gone. Panicked, I dropped to the floor, and, on my hands and knees, fumbled around the chairs for my lost enemy. Then the oh-so-familiar tick-tick-tick caught my ear. My Pocket!
Sure enough, the demonic thing had found its way into the right hand pocket of my jacket. Ignoring the pain, I grasped the trinket and hurled it across the room.
Screaming at the top of my lungs, I raised my gun and fired three shots. I don't know whose screams were louder, mine or the pistol's, but when the flash ended, I was a crumpled mess on the floor and the silver timepiece had landed beside the stove, fully intact, and sounding a triumphant tick-tick-tick.
"You, you, you, YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" I screamed, for this is where the ticking sounded now, ricocheting through my gray-matter, down my spine, through my bone marrow.
"Fine," I said, with a chuckle and a sigh, "I'll make you leave..." I raised my pistol once again, and made sure I heard the bang not three times, not even twice, but once, just once...
*****