Wednesday, June 3

Short Story

Tick tock, tick tock
She sat on the rocking chair, and with each swing, a crisp sound was heard. It whispered through the room, almost like a spell, lulling the audience into a deep sleep.
Tick tock, tick tock
She gazed out of the window, her eyes fixated on the silver moon pinned silently on the night sky. She had always wandered what is it about the night that intrigued her. Was it the silent, or was it the calmness it gave her? She used to hate (afraid of) the dark, but everything has changed since then.
Why do people hate the dark and not the light? She couldn't comprehend all the "rules" she was fed with. Step out from the dark, move towards the light. The dark brings bad luck.
"Poor Angeline ...", she muttered under her breath.
"Why did you break the rules?" The voice blew into her ear. She stood up so suddenly that the chair flipped behind her.
"Who's there?!" She swung around so hard that her white dress flickered under the moonlight. Almost immediately, the cold air wrapped it's scrawny fingers around her neck, and she could hear moans from a distance. Not very near of course, but not that far.
Tick tock, tick tock.
The clock was irritating her. It was messing with her head. Why should clocks tick? Why should girls wear dresses? Why must we care? Why did they matter?

The questions pumped into her faster, and faster.
Why do we have to make friends? Why do we have to speak appropriately? Why do we have to think before we act?

She saw a carousell, and it was turning and turning and turning. And the horses started to bleed, from the eyes. The carriage began to crack and the lights started to flicker furiously.
Tick tock, tick tock
She dropped onto the floor like a broken doll, but she scrapped her hand with something sharp.
"Poor mama ... , poor papa ..."
When the police found her, she was smiling. She floated on blood, swam amongst bones. The wind blew gently, and the bones cracked under the chair's pressure.
Tick tock, tick tock

I wrote this on the way to town after i had a squabble back at home, and i tried to express this with a story.
When i was writing this, i was thinking of a dark and psychological thriller, but at the same time, its fiction so please ignore and cruelty/violence and do not mistake my love for dark writings for mental struggles.

Definitely not an A+ essay and i'm not sure if i brought out the dark/thrill sense which i tried to cultivate throughout the story, but hey.

Hope you enjoy this and i will update soon,
with real updates about my life

No comments:

Post a Comment