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“Tik-Tok”. “Tik-Tok”. “Tik-Tok”.

The clocks on the wall ticked violently. They just wouldn’t stop. The clocks made the noise every second of every day. Every clock was in sync. Every tick was in perfect harmony. The clocks never made any other noises. There was no concept of time anymore. They only ticked and tocked. The wall they rested on was just big enough for one hundred and one clock. Glistening white wallpaper peered out from the small spaces behind the clocks.

The cat clock, which was black and white and from the early 1900’s, had eyes. With every second the eyes ticked back and forth. This is the clock Dorothy hated the most. The eyes always watched her every move. The big, goofy grin on the stupid cats face, taunted her. Everything about the clock was evil. The biggest clock was hung dead center of the wall. The numbers were a dirty gold color. The same color as her locket, which she never let go of. She always rubbed her little heart locket, which laid close to her heart. She never let go of the small locket. Her long, bony fingers always had to touch the locket. The locket was her only source of company.

“Tik-ToK”, “Tik-Tok”, “Tik-Tok”.

Surrounding the big clock were little clocks. Gold, midnight black, mocha brown, even fire red. Each clock was unique. Every one had its own shape. From circles, to squares, to even different color and shaped hands.

On the wall of a hundred and one clocks there was only one that said a date. The biggest clock had a small space near the center that said 12/31/2099 in bright gold numbers. “99”, “99, “99”, she whispered. She rocked back and forth. She rocked to the beat of the clock. “Tick”, she would rock backwards. “Tock”, she rocked forwards. Her lavender sweater, filled with holes and that was 3 sizes too big, rocked with her. The old boots she wore, black with pointed toes, made a slight “thump” every time the clock said “tock”. Her tangled, unbrushed, dirty grey hair swayed in the slight breeze coming from the cracks in the old house. This house was made 100 years ago. It only has 1 floor, ranch style. The wood that makes up the house was from the tallest oak trees in the forest, where the house is located. The wood is now decaying, the windows are boarded shut, the oak tree door is always locked. As for the interior, little to nothing. In the kitchen, the cabinets are falling off. The bedroom has only 3 things. A bed, which the frame is broken, a nightstand, the old birchwood nightstands drawers contain nothing but dead bugs and cobwebs, and a single picture. This picture was of Dorothy and Delilah, her daughter. Both had the biggest smiles plastered on their faces. The sun was shining and she was holding Delilah. This was all before…before it happened. Throughout the house, there are scattered broken chairs or random pieces of wood. Cobwebs line every part of the house and bugs and other critters make themselves at home.

The night soon approaches. Noises of animals surround the old house. Dorothy still sits and watches the clocks.

“Tik-Tok”, “Tik-Tok”, “Tik-Tok”.

Simultaneously, Dorothy still chants, “99”, “99”, “99”. This is the same routine, everyday, for the past 50 years.


The house shook. For the first time, Dorothy stopped rocking. She stopped chanting “99”. Everything was silent. For the very first time, absolutely everything was silent. She stopped rubbing her locket. Instead of her knees being to her chest, she sat legs crossed, hands folded in her lap. Her eyes darted rapidly to check every clock. Every clock was the exact same, except they were all frozen at 12 o’clock. Every single one, frozen, not moving. An eerie, red glow then filled her face. It came from the big clock. The date was glowing a fiery red. She lifted her hand and placed it on the clock over the date. Crystal clear tears fell down her face. She began to tremble. She wasn’t thinking of 99 or the clocks anymore. Her thoughts suddenly became her daughter, but only for a minute, for just then she realized. She became overwhelmed with the thoughts of 12/31/2099. She chuckled. The chuckle progressed to laughing, to cackling, to shrieking. They got up and jumped and danced, still shrieking “12/31/2099”, but she never once took her eyes off the date. After 2 minutes of shrieking, she stopped. She stopped dead in her tracks. She placed her hand over her heart. The locket. She opened it, while still staring at the date. Then, for the first time in 50 years, she looked away. She didn’t look at her surroundings, the kitchen, the windows, herself, but rather she only peered down at the locket. In the golden locket was a picture of her and Delilah, the same as the one in the bedroom. Her cracked pointer finger carried the picture. A single tear fell on the photo. She then noticed the background of the tiny photo. Behind them was a black figure with red eyes. Fire red eyes. She gasped, yelled at the top of her lungs. Her scream shook the house. In the middle of her screech, it happened.

The house was once again silent. Only a red glow illuminated the house, except there were 2 sources of light, the date and the eyes.

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