Fate Clock

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
What if you knew the exact moment that you would meet your soul mate? You don’t know where you’ll meet them, or what you’ll look or feel like, or how you’ll meet them…let alone what they look or act like. The only thing you do know is when. All you have to go on is a fate clock…

Submitted: December 17, 2013

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Submitted: December 17, 2013

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Fate Clock

What if you knew the exact moment that you would meet your soul mate? You don’t know where you’ll meet them, or what you’ll look or feel like, or how you’ll meet them…let alone what they look or act like. The only thing you do know is when. All you have to go on is a fate clock…

What is a fate clock, you ask? Well, everyone has one. Don’t you? It’s a clock given to us just as soon as we’re born. To look at it, you’d simply call it a wrist tattoo. That is, until you realize that it’s moving, clicking away just like a clock would.

At each hospital, there is a fate clock supervisor, and their job is to simply engrain the clock into the wrist of each new born child. These supervisors are paid by the government, but supposedly, they and the government have nothing to do with the time you meet your soul mate…or so they say. It’s simply what it’s called – a clock that ticks away until fate is graced upon you.

There are those that don’t believe the government, of course. They argue and pose the reasonable question, how can they know when each of us will meet our soul mate? No one can know that kind of thing, right? It just happens when it’s supposed to. Actually, now that I think about it, there’s this group of radicals that will go so far as to cut off their wrists just so that they aren’t under the influence of their fate clock.

Their first leader, the one that created the group, went so far against the government that he led attacks. His capture was plastered all over the news. Before they cut out his tongue for his crime of speech against the government, they allowed him to speak only one sentence.

He spoke only six words.

Why would you want to know? That’s what he said.

His head followed his tongue.

Don’t get me wrong; I guess I’m not completely against the idea of knowing when. There’s still enough surprise in the whole ordeal, right? You only know the when. The rest of it is sort of surprise enough, I suppose.

I’ve known many couples that simply allowed their fate clocks to tick away until the moment they met their soul mate, and they’re the happiest people I know. Couples that met through their clock have gotten married and had kids, even grandkids. They have that picture perfect life that we all secretly want, deep down.

Of course, there are the rare couples with your typical case of domestic abuse, either from the male or female. But no matter where you go, that’ll be around somehow, as sad as that sounds.

The whole fate clock hasn’t really been around that long. In fact, I was born in the first generation of fate clock babies. My parents met the old way, and they’re still happy together. I don’t know why the government decided to do this. I don’t even know who’s telling the truth – the government or the radicals.

The one thing I do know is that my fate clock is quickly ticking towards its end, and I’m standing on the side of a very busy street. Looking down at my right wrist, I see the clock reads:

00:00:00:00:02:35

Zero years. Zero months. Zero days. Zero hours. Two minutes, and thirty five seconds.

My head jumps up and I look around, trying to see if there’s anyone else with the same look that’s surely on my face. But I don’t see anyone. My heart begins to pound, and with every wild beat, I feel this odd pull beginning to form in my chest. It urges me to take a step forward, but if I do, I’ll be on the busy street.

00:00:00:00:01:43

The sounds of car horns blaring begin to make my head feel like it’s going to explode. I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers, feeling this slight sheet of sweat covering my skin. Not wanting to miss out on whoever it is coming my way, I drop my hand to peer at my wrist.

00:00:00:00:00:59

That’s when I see him.

He’s standing across the street from me in the exact same position I am, a mirror reflection. He’s staring down at his right wrist, waiting for each of the numbers to be zero. My breath catches in my throat as I look the man over.

All I really have to say is that fate has been very, very kind.

The man is gorgeous.

Our gazes lock at the same exact moment, and then I see something that makes me feel more relieved through this whole ordeal that I have ever believed I would.

He smiles, like he’s pleased.

Exhaling a breath, I feel a smile of my own pulling at the sides of my lips and I finally allow my body to move forward and follow the pull that’s been tugging at the middle of my chest this whole time. One foot moves in front of the other, mirroring his movements as we step out into the street together, our fate clocks quickly fading away.

The truck came out of nowhere, and now that I look back on it, I shouldn’t have been so stupid to allow myself to walk forward. Surely I could have motioned for him to wait for the traffic light. But no…I didn’t.

It hit him faster than I could blink. A trail of blood and torn clothing was painted across the street as the truck finally came to a stop, the driver realizing what had just happened.

I dropped to my knees out of some odd instinct I couldn’t place. Lifting my right wrist, I looked down to see that it read:

00:00:00:00:00:01

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