The Stories of an Immortal

The Ticking Clock

All I could hear was the endless ticking of the clock, until now, because I'm closing my eyes so that I can concentrate on all the other wonderful sounds around me. I can hear my heart beating at the same time as the clock ticking; I can hear the harsh whistle of a blast of wind slamming against my thin-paned window; I can hear the strong rain hammering down so heavily onto my roof that I think it might cave inwards. With a sharp intake of breath, I snap open my eyes.

In front of me is that old rusty clock hanging alone on my wooden bedroom wall. Underneath it stands a dark rocking chair – my favourite place to sit until its stonewashed blue cushion was ripped. Now, the chair stares at me forlornly, all alone like the clock. I'm perched on my bed instead, stroking its vibrant magenta blanket, the only source of brightness in the entire room.

My eyes flicker up to the clock and back down again. I can feel it glaring at me, searing its non-existent gaze into my head. Deeply sighing, I roll my eyes at the clock, the ghost of a smile playing at my lips as I stagger out of the room.

My staircase creaks as I race down the dark steps, pausing only to pick up a heavy case at the bottom before rushing out of my house. The vicious wind slams the giant door shut, but I don't have time to worry about the damage it may have done because I need to focus on getting into my carriage as quickly as possible. Luckily, the journey shouldn't be a long one, as long as my horse can keep steadily battling against the storm.

A dark curtain has been drawn across my window to keep out the rain, but sight-seeing is the best part of a journey and I don't want to miss all the magic. Gently I pull the curtain back, gazing at the gentle blur of dark green with a soft smile lingering on my face. I wish I could see the moon, but it's concealed by a thick blanket of darkness.

Finally the carriage stops and my smile morphs into a grin.

I step outside and gracefully bow before the beautiful Queen as she hurriedly gestures towards my case. With twinkling eyes, I carefully piece my contraption together. Lowering myself onto a bench, brushing my wet hair out of my frozen face, I begin to play my flute.

As my magnificent music fills the air, the strong wind becomes a gentle breeze and the rain completely disappears. Beside me, the Queen lets out a long breath. Once my music comes to an end, no words are spoken between us, but she quickly grasps my hand. When she lets go, I can see a silver pocket watch shining brightly in the moonlight. All I can hear on the journey home is its endless ticking, yet I never want to hear anything else.