The Clock: a Short Story

The Clock

 

“Mysteries are often the most lucid explanation of facts.”

***

It is the second day that he hasn’t left the house.  He must stay indoors for four consecutive days with no access to his cellular phone or any other electronic gadgets that could connect him to the outside world. That was the bet. Not a big deal for others perhaps but to him it was something that none of his friends had ever imagined that he was capable of doing. At age 20 with an adorable personality and vast riches, he has a huge circle of friends and admirers.

 

 In a sad incident a few months ago, he humiliated a woman who was in her late fifties. The woman later committed suicide. He didn’t really mean it that way. It was a prank that went very wrong and took life of an innocent person. Perhaps she had other problems too and the prank merely triggered the pitiful end. Whatever the cause may have been, it left him with a heavy heart after initial sense of joy and pride of always fulfilling his tasks, beating the challenge with a perfect history of hits and no misses whatsoever.

 

Staying alone and disconnected from friends proved to be way more difficult than he had initially thought. Even after spending most of his time in the gym, he feels tired. The massive house is brightly lit. He is not supposed to peek out of the window or watch any live programs on television or listen to the music. The only object showing some kind of movement in the house other than him is the old Victorian clock mounted on the wall in the sitting area. The ominous silence at time turns deafening. He however likes the sound of the clock striking the chime rods at regular intervals. It feels like soothing music to his ears. 

 

What he is not aware of is the fact that while he sleeps, the clock develops some kind of a defect and its needle starts spinning at an incredible pace.  It however gets back to normal pace as he wakes up. He had a dream the previous morning and saw the woman. She was sadly staring at him, or was it pity in her gloomy eyes?

Tick, tick, tick…His rescue is nearing in a big grave-like monolith. But why does he feel so tired, so sick and so crouched?

 

Eventually the day of the salvation arrives. He knows that all his friends are waiting outside to welcome him to a world he is so accustomed to.  He shaves and looks admiringly at his handsome face, prepared to embrace another convincing victory which has somehow become his forte. 

 

As the clock strikes 12:00 pm, he gets up, walks triumphantly towards the door and opens it slowly. The day looks bright and beautiful. He looks lovingly at his friends, extremely jubilant and elated to see their smiling faces. 

 

They all are staring at him, shaking their heads like they don’t recognize him, yet know about it. Elizabeth, his sweetheart comes forward and speaks hesitantly… a strange expression on her face, of subtle recognition and remembrance, and self-denial;

 

“Hi sir, is Maurice home?  We knew it. He can’t live alone, cheater”, she says joyfully, shaking her head and looking over her shoulder at her other friends who all smile and nod.

 

He too smiles weakly.., not fully comprehending the situation, then slowly turns sideways and looks at his own reflection in the door mirror; of a man in his late sixties.

 

The End