Ticking Clock

Tick, Tick, Tick… The incessant noise of the old grandfather clock was beginning to drive me mad. What time was it even? I think I had laid down to sleep around ten, but sleep for whatever reason had not taken me.

Tick, Tick, Tick… Looking over I saw that the faintly glowing face of my digital clock read 11:59. Should I get up? Should I lay here? There was some melatonin in the bathroom, but I had somewhere to be early the next day and that would leave my mind cloudy. Perhaps some reading would lull my ever racing mind, but my book was across the room on my desk and the bed was so warm…

Tick, Tick, Tick… Indecision held me firm beneath the comfort of my blankets. Instead of getting up I continued to stare at the numbers, waiting for that moment when 59 would roll over to double zero. Midnight. The thought of being up so late with such an early morning ahead of me added stress that threatened to keep me awake even longer. I had to get up and do something.

Tick, Tick, Tick… As soon as the clock struck midnight I would rouse myself from my cocoon of comfort. Less than a minute–any second now really. I could wait that long. Then the movement of the hour would be the excuse I needed to move myself.

Tick, Tick, Tick… I waited for what felt like an eternity. When the clock still wouldn’t move I started counting, keeping time with the grandfather clock across the room… thirty-five, thirty-six… there was no way that a minute had not passed yet, but I counted on as a faint 11:59 continued to stare back at me.

Fifty-seven, Tick. fifty-eight, Tick. fifty-nine, Tick. Sixty.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes and swung my feet out from under my covers. I gave the old school alarm clock a sharp tap, then another, but the time remained the same. “Stupid cheap clock,” I said aloud, reaching finally for my phone. I turned it over, expecting it to actually be two or three in the morning, but it mimicked the plastic clock I relied on; 11:59.

I got out of bed and flipped the light on, not caring about the acute pain that caused me to squint and curse the sudden onslaught of light. Glancing at the grandfather clock that usually lulled me to sleep, but that this night was tormenting my very being, I already knew what the clock face read.

Still, I made myself walk over to it to confirm. I had to see it up close to be sure. But there the old analog hands sat exactly where I expected them to be: both almost, but not quite, overlapping the 12 at the very top of the clock face. Yet the second hand marched on with the swinging of the pendulum.

Tick, Tick, Tick… I ran down the stairs, barely remembering to grab my robe as I fled my bedroom. There was another analog clock over the kitchen table–and then the microwave and stove had their own digital displays that kept time… Surely one of them must have moved into the midnight hour or beyond.

I turned on every light as I fled from the frozen time bubble behind me, hoping that ahead lay simple temporal progress, but when I arrived in the kitchen my hope was crushed as I found 11:59 staring back at me in the three places I sought solace.

An elaborate prank, I thought, someone was messing with me. My brother, perhaps? Or maybe it was a friend who had sneaked in while I was at work. Josh was good with computers, he could pull something like this off.

I pulled out my phone to see the newly familiar time staring back at me and tried to ignore it as I unlocked my phone and began searching for Josh in my contacts. The phone rang, but he did not answer. So I called my brother, but he also didn’t answer.

Tick, Tick, Tick… My hands began to shake. This must be a dream. It must be a dream. I pinched myself, as if that would be enough to rouse me. I splashed water on my face, praying for an awakening. Nothing seemed to work and the clocks all continued to scream 11:59 at me.

Tick, Tick, Tick… I tried calling everyone on my contacts but no one answered. I tried slapping myself and screaming and everything I could think of. Then I remembered: there was a faulty outlet that I had never gotten replaced; maybe an electric shock would wake me up. It was a dream after all–it must be.

Tick, Tick, Tick… I reached my hand out toward the outlet, my heart racing, and I touched the exposed metal corner of the box.

…

“Clear!” The paddles shocked the limp body, causing it to contort for a moment. “It’s no good,” the EMT said, “He’s gone.”

“Time of death?” The second EMT asked.

“12:00am. Midnight,” he replied simply, looking up to the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room.

This short story was written in 30-minutes as a response to the prompt: “The clock is ticking… What happens when it strikes 12?”. It is presented here with minimal editing.