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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1959055-Tick-Tock
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1959055
What is the source of that ticking?

Tick. Tock.

I jolt awake to complete darkness and a silence only broken by the eternal ticking clock that sits across my room on my dresser. Another sleep ruined by my brain suddenly kicking on I think. I fumble with the little switch on the base of the Iron Man lamp my mom got me, and finally hear the satisfying click that will brings glorious light to my miserable cramped bed room, but nothing happens. There is no blinding flash of brightness from my metallic hero. Great, I muse, light bulb must have burnt out. I grope around the oak top of the bedside table and my wandering fingers eventually run into my phone. A jab of the home button on the iPhone does nothing. "The hell," I grumble as the screen does not illuminate or even turn on. How is my phone dead? It had been plugged in before sleep had taken over me and it should be fully charged, yet here I sit with no phone, no lamp and that damn tick, tocking of the clock.

Was that last tick louder than the tock?

I must have somehow turned off my phone during the night so I anxiously hold down the power button. Still nothing. After a minute of this monotonous button holding, I swing out from under the warmth of my Batman comforter and stumble over to the far wall and flick the light switch.

Tick. Tock.

Nothing. It would make sense that the power could have gone out in the night I suppose. I calmly continue towards my door to the living room and attempt to turn the handle.
Tick. Tock.

The door doesn't budge an inch. The knob will not even turn. "What in the-" I begin to whisper, and quickly stop as I hear "Tick. Tock." Normally, this clock and its audible record of time keeping brings a haunting consistency to my room, but all of a sudden my entire focus turns to the sound.

The sound from the clock just came from the wrong side of my room. I had my clock to the right of my bed on the dresser, but the last "Tock" came from off of the left side of my bed. Now fear sets in. I wait for the inevitable sound, but it doesn't come. All is completely, heavily silent. For what seems like an eternity I await the signal that it was my imagination; that the clock was still where I had left it, but it is inexplicably quiet. Then I hear it. It starts with the faintest of chirps, "tick. tock. tick. tock. tick. tock. tick. tock. tick. tock. tick. tock. tick. tock." Then, it is as if hundreds of voices are screaming at the top of their lungs "TICK. TOCK!" I shatter the stillness that had gripped my body and lash out viciously in front of me and feel a gratifying smack as I knock the clock out of mid air in front of me and hear it smash into pieces on the floor. Once again all is silent for just a second, and then I hear an ominous whisper from disembodied voices all around my room, "Tick. Tock. Time kills us all eventually."

A bump, a thud, and the blackness of the room grows even thicker for me as I crumble to the floor.

Tick. Tock.
© Copyright 2013 Precinct Captain (mtgisu23 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1959055-Tick-Tock