Tuesday, December 9, 2008- Clockwork

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
It never stops.
Boring into my brain as if it were being amplified across an empty stadium, it is proving decidedly impossible to ignore.
Cold, hard, shiny, and decidedly unsympathetic, the clock surveys its victim atop a tall, formidable-looking bookcase, whose shelves contain fat computer manuals and musty dictionaries. With its painfully bright lamp and menacing stacks of papers, my mother’s study is not the coziest of chambers.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Like the sound of a cracking whip.
Nervously, I steal a glance at my surveyor. He stares back- unblinking and unmerciful. Round and round they go, clock’s hands. I grow worried. Dead metal- I am enslaved to a mechanical dictator. Eyes down, I busy myself with my work.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
I am momentarily struck with the humor- I am terrified of an inanimate object the size of my fist- and then with yet another glance up and a sharp pang as I read the clock’s malicious expression, the smile is instantly wiped off my face. My heart rate increases slightly. The clock appears smug, evil. The menacing lamp and my unfeeling dictator seem to be in league- his cool polished surface draws the light and thus my attention. Even the numbers appear hostile- a bold unforgiving black. The tension builds. Unable to calm myself, I frantically calculate the amount of time it will take for me to finish.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Now it is a vicious laugh. Mocking.
With that I snap. Snarling, momentarily insane, I hurl the clock out of the room and experience a slight disappointment when I don’t hear the resounding crash. I square my shoulders, a smug expression on my face. Collected, I breathe a sigh of relief- that almost immediately turns into a snort of annoyance. Although the dictator has been temporarily overthrown, I am still enslaved to the piles of homework that surround me. Defeated, I resign myself to my fate.
Gasp.
A faint, distant, but alarmingly present noise can be heard.
Tick . Tock. Tick. Tock.