"Clocks" drabbles by Christopher
11:40 PM (Ship's Time)
Clocks
The RMS Titanic left Southampton, England on April 10, 1912 bound for New York, USA after stops in Cherbourg, France and Queenstown, Ireland.
At 11:40 PM ship's time on April 14, 1912, the ship struck an iceberg in the North Atlantic Ocean. Two hours and forty minutes later, on April 15th, the ship broke apart and began its descent to the bottom of the ocean and infamy.
More than 1500 of the estimated 2,224 passengers and crew aboard died.
If reports are true, the captain of the Titanic, Edward Smith, had boasted, "Not even God Himself can sink this ship."
11:59 PM
Clocks
They're getting ready to strap me into the chair. Been on death row for seven years. They convicted me of murdering a woman.
I was beginning to wonder if it was ever going to happen. My lawyer said he's got enough evidence to have my conviction overturned if he can get the governor to stay the execution.
The phone rang just as they sat me in the hot seat. The warden was frowning.
"Get him up, boys. Governor called it off."
My lawyer came through. 11:59 PM.
You know what's funny?
That was the exact time I killed that bitch.
12:01 AM
Clocks
3:35 pm
Been pacing around, waiting for that all-important call. They know how important it is. I still haven't heard anything.
5:15 pm
Decided to have an early dinner, hoping to distract myself. I hadn't had filet mignon in years. It was pretty good.
7:38 pm
More pacing...they should've called by now.
10:20 pm
Had a discussion with a chap about religion. Not my thing but it took my mind off waiting for that call.
11:53 pm
Had a sit-down. Knew now that call from the governor's office wasn't coming.
12:00 am
They're preparing to flip the switch...
The End Of It
Clocks
Freddie waited on the corner, staring at the big clock on the sign of the First National Bank.
12:03 am.
She'd be coming to the bus stop soon, after her shift at the movie theater ended.
Freddie had finally plucked up the courage to ask her out.
She came walking up. Freddie's palms were sweating.
"Deb...Deb...Deborah," he said, stuttering.
"Hello, Freddie," she said, not even looking at him.
"Would you...you...you...like to go out...out...out with me?"
She laughed uproariously. "You?! I'd rather be dead!"
"O...O...Okay," Freddie said.
Deborah thought that was the end of it.
It was the end of it.
Before Sunrise
Clocks
He stares at the clock on his dashboard, glowing in the dark.
3:54 am.
He must arrive before sunrise. It's imperative no one sees him.
He churns the events of the last two days over in his mind. It was a major blow discovering his new bride was unfaithful, with his best friend.
4:04 am.
Almost there.
4:14 am.
It'll be light soon. He backs his car up to the edge of the cliff. He looks down at the ocean below.
He pops the trunk and removes the two bodies, throwing them off the cliff for a burial at sea.
VCR
Clocks
We got our first VCR in the mid-1980s. I must've been about fourteen. It was great. We could rent movies on tape and watch them at home, bypassing the theater. Of course, you had to wait six months after it left the theater before you could get it.
But what I remember most was being distracted by the blinking 12:00 on the face of the machine because we couldn't figure out how to set the clock.
Now you have smart phones, smart TVs, smart everything.
And we couldn't figure out how to set the clock on a dumb VCR.
100 Seconds To Midnight
Clocks
It's called the Doomsday Clock. It's a symbol, a model which measures the likelihood of a man-made global catastrophe. It was created in 1947, set at 7 minutes to midnight, and is assessed every January to determine how close we are to our own doom. It's been changed 23 times since then, the longest gap was 17 minutes in 1991. The shortest gap is 100 seconds, set yesterday.
I don't worry about the Doomsday Clock. We've been on a collision course with oblivion since the day that God created Adam and turned him loose in the Garden of Eden...
A Blind Eye
Clocks
Mr. Voyeur's evening schedule ran like clockwork:
5:15-Arrive home.
5:25-Perform ablutions.
5:40-Stiff drink
5:45-Thumb and forefinger opens crack in blinds.
5:50-Stare at window of apartment 7 of building across street.
6:00-Await arrival of apartment's occupant, who loved to prance around naked whilst doing housework.
6:15-Lust after apartment's occupant.
7:00-Tidy up before arrival of Mrs. Voyeur.
However, an early arrival home one evening by Mrs. Voyeur, coupled with a knitting needle, assured that Mr. Voyeur would forever turn a blind eye to the proceedings in apartment 7 of the building across the street.
Tin Can
Clocks
He looked at the Earth clock.
It's just after 8 am at our house. She'll be getting up about now, Tom thought.
Of course, she's probably been awake all night. She probably knows they lost contact with me.
He gazed out the porthole. Earth looked like a tiny blue marble now.
He'd tried to repair the failed circuit but it was no use. The vessel was dead, floating in space, further away from Earth.
He looked at the clock again.
8:15 am.
I hope my wife knows I love her very much.
8:16 am.
Yeah, Major Tom thought, she knows...
Bong....
Clocks
Location:
The Lamb & Flag
London, UK
Time:
7:57 PM
Players:
Nigel & Alistair
"No, mate. S'got to. This is historic!" Nigel said.
"It's gonna cost 500,000 pounds to bong it! They'd have to build a temporary floor to replace the bonging mechanism," replied Alistair.
"Rubbish! It tolled on New Year's Eve, no? What were they doing then? Shootin' it with spitballs?"
Alistair replied, "They waited until 2 January to take the floor out, that's why!"
Alistair got up to leave.
"You were a remainer anyway!" Nigel yelled. "Ask not for whom Big Ben bongs, mate! It bongs for thee!"
The Wait
Clocks
For a modern hospital they sure have an old-fashioned clock on the wall in here, Tom Jackson thought as he sat in the waiting room. It was big, round and white with Roman numerals circling around the face. It was 3:12 am when they arrived. It was now 11:34 am.
I hope they're taking care of her. Of course they are. This is a hospital.
12:56...
1:43...
2:19...
3:12...
Okay, we've been here exactly 12 hours. When will this end?
Tom saw Dr. Langley appear.
"It's a healthy baby boy, Mr. Jackson," the doctor said with a cheery smile.
And....Now!
Clocks
I open my eyes and look at the red numbers glowing in the darkness of the room.
3:24
I close my eyes.
I open them again.
3:24
Close.
Open.
3:24
Is it ever going to change? Did it get stuck? Maybe the clock did what I couldn't and fell asleep.
3:24
I bet it's going to change....Now!
3:24
And....Now!
3:24
And.... Now!
3:24
Are you kidding me? I can't sleep. The least the clock could do is change when I think it's going to. I mean, it's bad enough to have insomnia but...
3:25
Dammit! Missed it. I'll try again...
Ring Ring
Clocks
I sit and watch the clock as it ticks off the final hour. It seems to be stretching out over an eternity. The room is eerily quiet, except for the ticking and my heavy breathing. I have to get out of here. I feel like the walls are closing in on me.
Tick...the sweat rolls down my face.
Tick...I fidget in my seat.
Tick...I start the countdown.
Tick...Five
Tick...Four
Tick...Three
Tick...Two
Tick...One
And then the bell rings out in the hall.
"Okay, class. See you tomorrow," the teacher says with a cheerful smile.
And I finally lay my burden down.
Imperfect Strangers
Clocks
We sit in almost silence. Ice sloshes in glasses. Eating utensils clink on plates and bowls. The clock on the mantel ticks away the seconds of our lives that, unseen by either of us, morph into years that cannot be relived once it's discovered they've been squandered. The little ones that never came to us run through the house as ghosts, haunting us.
She doesn't even look at me as we leave the table. We slumber in different chambers now. We dream different dreams (or nightmares).
It's like we've never met. We're imperfect strangers.
Acquainted yet unfamiliar.
Joined yet separate.
