RSS Feed

Tag Archives: time


Clock by alsovision (

Clock by alsovision (

I’d been through this before. Definitely. The certainty of it clamped around my gut and agitated it in flits of tension. It was like that expression about butterflies, only it felt like a whole nest had spawned in there. I clutched at my abdomen through the flimsy t-shirt I wore, poking into the yielding gut. Distracted. The drive from work was normally hurried but today I had to drive slow, steady – patiently. It was all part of the plan you see. Whose plan? I don’t know, maybe God? What do I know? I just had to follow the script. And this was where it would all begin, with me looking up from my protruding gut up past my steering wheel, ahead of me at the empty road ahead. I had to be watching the bright green glow of the traffic light, anticipating the change of light from green, to orange…to off. A red car would appear from over the rise, a hatch back, followed by a white sedan blasting music that would make my windows rattle in their frame; a young man, slick black hair, mocha brown skin, large dark sunglasses. By the time I get to the traffic light they’ll be pulling off. I also then have to pull off – have to – and as I drive past, I must turn to look at the individual in the other car, see him nod at me…and then… and then this is the part where reality becomes…skewed, distorted.  There is definite darkness, I can’t see what’s happening but consciousness keeps me rooted to reality through my throbbing chest, riddled with a deep anguishing pain and there’s a sound that grates against my teeth – a loud scraping of metal against metal and a ceaseless tinkle of glass. I pry my eyes open, fighting the swimming darkness and I see…me. My mind does not want to comprehend what I’m seeing but its as clear as daylight even against the world that slowly dissipates into a fog of grey. Hallucinations, that’s what it must be. Darkness consumes me.

Mrs McDermitt. She’s my worst nightmare. What’s worse? I haven’t done her homework yet, oh man today isn’t going so well. First, mom is on my case for not waking up early, or making the bed, or washing my dishes after eating or walking around on my socks etc etc etc. Gosh she can be soooo annoying. And then my brother? Gah he is a nuisance, pouring cold water down my back as a joke, meaning I have to change into a new set of clothes – ironed or not I wasn’t going to care! So now I’m late. And now this truck is blocking my way, if I’m late I won’t be able to get to school in time to attempt some of that homework – wait, is this truck playing house music? The back of my teeth feel like they will rattle out of my mouth its so loud. Maybe its someone at the intersection ahead. Who cares, I just need to get to school, and quick.

You know that whole “with great power comes great responsibility” quote? Yeah, its been my motto for a long while now, well since that fateful day when that young professor suddenly showed up at my door and said “You are the one. Its yours. Fix it all!” and dropped dead at my feet. I of course shut the door against his slumped form, rushing back into the house and grabbing the first thing I could find- which turned out to be a rather useless broom stick – and returned to the door, ready to…well I don’t know but I was ready – maybe zombie movies have influenced me negatively.  Returning to the door I’d found him still slumped face down on the floor, cold and stiff as a rock. In his hand he’d held a device of sorts, with a clock on it and as I’d pried it out of his hardened fingers, I’d had noticed the yellow etchings engraved within the lines on his palm – the same etchings that were now engraved on my palms and each one occurring after I’d gone back, back to fix my mistakes. There was one last one to fix, and it was coming towards me from below the rise. The red hatch back I drove was borrowed indefinitely and that was okay because this was my last trip. I heard before I saw the white sedan coming up behind me, my windows rattling with the sound of the bass.  Luckily my windows were tinted otherwise the subsequent event might have played out differently, especially as I watched the traffic light die out – I knew that a truck would be coming around a bend soon at a relatively fast speed, followed by a young boy on a bicycle. This was it.  I clutched at my abdomen through the flimsy t-shirt I wore, poking into the yielding gut – butterflies.

When the young scientist stepped out of his car, his cold body shivering from intense cold, he knew this was his last errand. The last wrong to fix in an endless loop that made his head buzz with uncertainty; his mind could not comprehend the concepts of immortality and eternity – and the truth of their existence. However, the gadget in his hand corroborated this truth as the words “…those whom He foreknew, He also predestined…” reverberated through his thoughts. How could it be, that ten years ago, he was but a boy on a bicycle rushing to school to finish the homework of some horrid, torturous teacher that dished out detention mercilessly. That on that fateful day, as the truck he rode beside careened around the bend, slow to notice the two cars taking off at the intersection, that he would be unable to brake fast enough, and he’d be hurtling down towards the moving vehicles ahead. And when the truck’s wheels squealed in agony, burning from the friction of brakes being applied suddenly, only one thought crossed his mind. Death. It was a complete moment of shock. Never once had his mortality been questioned as intensely as this and as the prospect of death clutched at his young mind, he zoned out – where will I go if I die now!? What awaits me at the end!? As death encroached, a second car appeared, a red hatch back and from it, a man leaped out of the moving vehicle, landing on the concrete floor with a crunching thud. Somehow the man managed to rise to his feet quick enough to pull him off his bicycle as he watched the man’s car barrel into the side of the truck so hard the truck veered sideways. The man, whoever he was kept shoving some small device into his hand hand, a clock-like thing while he kept shouting at the boy in his shocked state “You are the one. Its yours. Fix it!” and disappeared.

Now the scientist stood outside the door of the man who had saved him that day and in his cold dying hands, the device that would see him here again. The problem, he realized, was that fixing it never changed anything, nothing drastic anyway and he’d find himself here all over again, the same amount of etchings on his palm – the life line detailing all his mistakes; there were too many even with all the time in the world. As he knocked on the door, fighting to keep his body alive, he realized how it could change and as the man pulled the door open he spoke,

“You can’t fix it –  only faith can save.”


Auburn Part 2


Image courtesy of erez-nusem (

I woke up to the sound of screaming. The scream echoed within my head, drowning out all other sound. I tried to open my eyes, only to realize that they were open and yet I was in complete darkness. Panic seeped in slowly like a snake, subtle at first barely on the surface and within moments, bound tightly within its grasp, squeezed, lungs failing to breathe, life slipping away from groping hands and helplessness severely evident; that was where I was. The temptation to scream overrode my ability to think and I let out what I hoped would be a desperate cry for help. All I managed to do, however, was blow hot air into the dry cloth in my mouth.

“Hush now.” the deep, raspy whisper was so close to my ear that I let out a muffled yelp, my heart thumped in my chest in fear. The darkness intensified my fear, I could feel my body shake and I couldn’t stop it from shaking. Who was that!? Where am I!? What is going on?! That sense of panic squeezed my chest with dread and it took all of my strength not to get into a wild frenzy.

“Please!” I tried to cry, but again the gag only let a muffled whimper escape. Large, cold hands landed on my bare shoulders, pushing me back against what felt like a wooden chair and making me sit. My arms, tied behind my back, were released from their bondage and as I brought them forward, I felt tiny pin prickles and that weird sensation of my arms getting blood flowing in them again.

“Listen up – we are leaving. What you do from here on out is up to you… as it always has been. Nothing has changed of course…well, except for the little present we’ve left you.” At the mention of the word present, the man tugged at something wrapped around my ankle.

“Other than that, go back and live the miserable life that you’ve been living but who knows…” the man sighed with effort and I sensed him stand up, “…we might meet again.” I heard his footfalls fade and the squeak of a door open then the rattle of metal as the door shut closed. I waited for a while, straining my ears and listening for anything that could put me in potential danger. I let at least a minute pass by before I ripped the blind fold from my eyes.  There was no glare of light, as I’d anticipated, but what I saw caused me to shut my eyes anyway; my gag-reflex kicked in and I managed to block the bitter acidic liquid that was already bubbling up my throat.

She was dead…of course. There was no denying the pained, blank expression that adorned her eyes – even without the deep purple cords (veins, I nauseatingly noticed) that crisscrossed up her entire body, as though her arteries had been pumped full of air, short of bursting. I looked around, noting how small the room was – and bare. Still feeling the stinging sensation of rope around my wrists, I rose to my feet, suddenly aware that I was barefoot. The realization almost sent me through another fit of panic, the situation bearing down heavily on my psyche. To keep from panicking, I distracted myself by looking for my clothes, taking care not to look at or touch the auburn haired lady who was still tied to her chair. I found a sock, still half folded from when it had been pulled of my… I quickly looked down towards my foot, seeing the square bracket that had been locked around my ankle. A small groan escaped my lips as the corner of my eye recognized the same device linked around the auburn lady’s ankle; from it, the veins had begun to expand. I reached down to my ankle, giving the device a quick tug. A beep emanated from it, a flash of red followed and a scream shot from my mouth as pins dug into my ankle suddenly. Right at that moment, as though timed, a cellphone ring tone went off somewhere nearby. Still  reeling from the pain and still trying to figure out what that device had done to my ankle and with my mind abuzz with thoughts and the ringing phone, I frantically began searching for the phone to shut off its incessant noise though there was only one place it could really be. I turned to face the woman, tentatively moving towards her and to where I could hear the phone ringing. Quickly and with as much control over my gag-reflex as I could muster, I reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the phone.

<Private Number>

I answered.

“You have triggered the device…” I recognized the voice immediately, “…as I’m sure you know by now – don’t worry the numbness in your foot will fade eventually.” The man paused as though he were waiting for me to speak; I was rendered speechless however. He continued.

“You now have a set amount of time to live before you look like our red-haired friend over there. Its not a pleasant experience, I can tell you that, feeling your veins bubble and pulse and thicken and there is nothing you ca n do about it” he pulled in his breath sharply as though to emphasize the magnitude of that kind pain; I myself shuddered at the thought.

“Can you remove the device? Sure. But that prick you felt – that was a toxin injected into your blood stream, the magic formula that whittles down your body, every second that its in there, until you are nothing more than a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.” There was a slight pause. “So what will you do with the remainder of your time…maybe something good and constructive, you never know if this is all part of God’s redemptive plan to bring you back to Himself, right?” the man chuckled softly, “Or…go the other way and live life to the fullest for who knows…tomorrow you could be dead.” He laughed heartily, merrily, and my hand that was holding the phone clenched. The rage that blinded me and shut my ears against the laughing maniac didn’t merely simmer or boil; it simply exploded; With all that rage overwhelming me, I hurled the phone, hard, towards the wall where I watched the gadget shatter into pieces. At that exact moment, I felt my gut lurch as I realized that the phone was my only connection to the man who had done this to me, the only one who can reverse it; my last hope. With that final realization, I could no longer hold back the rushing bitterness crawling up my throat. I heaved onto the floor.

The Golden Thread


Once again the world is awakened to the rising sun, glorious in its stead; punctual. We glory in it’s warmth and beauty, gladdened by its presence as it overlays the land in gold. Its light washes over the darkness of night and sweeps our fears away with each ray of its golden light; rejoicing in its ability to give life to everything we see.

And yet

Often we are awakened to the rising sun, indifferent to its punctuality. Greet it in contempt and dissatisfaction. At times we take in it’s warmth and ignore its beauty, its presence merely a constant reminder of how fleeting time is in it’s relentlessness; the gold it overlays across the land only illuminates the repugnant inconsistencies and frailties of life. We’d rather wallow in the darkness, shrouding our objectionable desires and motives below the cover of darkness and obscurity, regardless of the fear that rattles our bones. Hiding from the light that reveals our life so no one sees everything about ourselves.

And even then

Is this not so even with God? Each morning we awaken, by His grace. Rising, we should glorify Him for his steadfastness and consistency. We ought to glory in His warmth and beauty, the God of love and creation who has continually blessed us with many things that should bring gladness to our hearts; His presence overlaying our lives in the gold of His majesty. His Light washes over the darkness of our hearts, sweeping away our fears, softening our hardened hearts and washing away our sins. We should be rejoicing in His ability to give life to all that we see but also to those who are dead in their iniquity, disobedience and sin.

Rajat Narula

Let's keep the love for books alive

Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!

Transmundane Press

Join the Community

Andrew McDowell

An Author of Many Parts

Letters from a Horror Writer

Katie Marie, Horror Enthusiast & Writer

Just another blog of random thoughts.

sakhile whispers

mental health and books over every damn thing

Way Too Fantasy

Speculative fiction book reviews and more!

R. Michael

The home of mysteries, writing, and ponderings.

The Library Ladies

Two librarians, one blog, zero SHH-ing

The Lost Highway Hotel

See cinema differently

Lorraine Ambers

Fantasy writer - Bibliophile - Daydreamer


Ordinary Girl in Love with Horror

SAM's Book Reviews

Books Old & New


Personal blog