Disclaimer: I do not own Clock Tower – The First Fear, or Human Entertainment, or anything else for that matter.
Author's Note: A friend of mine recently told me about a really creepy Survival Horror game for the SNES, called Clock Tower. Naturally, always taking the advice of friends, I investigated this game. I was hooked from the first time I died. Clunky controls, stupid 'Running-Drains-Health' thing, a very Emo-Like back story, and one big f'king pair of garden sheers. What's NOT to love?!
The Tables have Turned!
The sound of her heart throbbing in her throat and her own footsteps were the only things Jennifer could hear. The 'snip! Snip!' of scissors had been lost in the background, so maybe she could rest. Jen slid to a stop and got to her knees panting and heaving from all the running. She'd never ran this far or this long in her life. But... running from a psychopath with scissors would do that to you. Her legs, unable to fully support the weight of her torso, finally gave out, and she collapsed, throwing her hands to the ground to stop her plummet.
"A-" She started, trying to get air. Her breathing was heavily labored, after being chased from the bathroom in the West Wing all the way back here... Where ever the fuck 'here' was. She looked about. As she was running, she didn't care to take notice of where she was. All she could think was 'DOOR! I can hide in here, hopefully!' so door, after door, she tried them, hoping for a good place to hide. Nothing came from it, that little fuck and his scissors just kept popping up like daisies. A dull thud interrupted her thought process. She looked down to see a medium statue rolling on the ground. She swore and picked it up. This thing kept falling out. Unbuttoning her blouse some, she stuffed the Demon Idol back into her bra and re-buttoned her shirt. Her strength was returning, but slowly. When she got out of this, she HAD to invest in some endurance training. Suddenly, she heard it. 'Snip! Snip! Snip!' with every footstep. Coming closer. From behind her. For a nine year old cripple, he could sure move quickly.
Forgetting she was tired, she stood and began running again, away from where the snipping was coming from. This was about the time where she began swearing herself out for not pinching the shotgun off the unconscious Mary from a while back. It had been almost three hours, and she was still kicking herself for that. She rounded another corner, into another door, to find herself in a storage room. She'd been in this room before, and evaded Scissorman here, too. Doubtful he'd fall for the same gag twice. She had to think fast. She took up the other can of insecticide and retreated to the back of the room. Holding the can in one hand, and rolling her sleeve over her hand, she waited. The snipping became VERY loud. He was right outside. The snipping then stopped, and the door creaked open. She saw the sheers first, before the maniac holding them. She heard him laughing to himself as he entered.
"Hey! Assface!" She shouted, lobbing the can of insecticide at him. He reacted by snipping it in half with one good snap of his sheers, but the can exploded, releasing it's poisonous fumes from within. In the last few seconds of breathable air Jen had left, she drew a huge gulp of air and held it, self-made gas mask flung over her mouth and nose. Scissorman, more disoriented, began looking around. He frantically began trying to breath, but found he couldn't. Almost regretuflly, he retreated from the room, making one, great flaw while doing so. "His scissors!" Jen caught herself saying through her gag. Those two words completely expelled her air supply and she began taking in toxic fumes. Slightly panicking, she dashed forward and rolled out of the room, grabbing the scissors from the floor on the way out. She stood and looked at her prize. Smiling like a diranged killer, she looked about, holding them close.
The tables had turned.
