Lies of a Story Teller

Time's Laugh

A one shot creepy story I wrote in my notebook during psychology class. Don't get too scared! (haha don't worry, it's not that scary)

-FlyOn

The boy sat in a desk in the center of the classroom.

There was not a light on in the room. There was not another person in the room. There was nothing in the room, save the rows of empty desks, one table at the front, and the boy. A single light source from the window that looked out onto the night illuminated a chunk of the room. 

And the boy sat. And he did not move.

The clock on the wall above the black chalkboard ticked, echoing more like a gong in the silence, each turn of the cog producing a concussive thunk that was mental as well as physical. Each second that passed wormed it's way into the boy's brain like a parasite might dig into the flesh of an animal. It bit and clawed at the surface until sinking its little fangs into the blood and sucking its puny existence away.

The student sat with a spiral notebook on the desk in front of him, pen in hand, poised over the paper in a picturesque image of the studious pupil. But the paper was blank. Just like the desks were blank. Just like the walls were blank. Just like the chalkboard was blank. All screamed of a void that could not be filled, and time ticked away, maddeningly unstoppable, relentlessly hounding the world.

It struck the hour and still the student did not move. It stuck again an hour later and still the student did not move. And it struck another hour and still the student did not move. And then it struck another hour, and another, and another, and the student sat, waiting.

He stared at the clock unblinking, unmoving, unreal. And the clock ticked it's death toll with every single passing second and the world revolved around the tiny little hand.

Time squeezed tight it's grasp and the world was forced to comply and there was nothing that the student could do except for wait. And each passing tick of the clock sounded more and more like a maniacal laugh.

He did not know what he was waiting for. Only that he was waiting and that he would know what he was waiting for when it came.

Sadly, the man sitting at his desk thought the same thing.

And the woman in her bedroom.

And the girl in her car. 

And the child on the living room floor.

They all waited on time to bring them what they sought.

And time laughed and it sounded like tick. . .tock. . .tick. . .tock...