Tick...
Tock...
Tick...
Tock...
The minutes seemed to be slipping away from her. Slipping, fading, and floating far away. Too insubstantial for her to grasp tangibly, she had no choice, no say, but to let those moments float right by her. She was trapped in time. Each second stung. Each minute maimed her. Each hour, day, week, and month marched relentlessly past her. She was dying. She was dying inside herself; inside the walls she called home, sanctuary. The books she'd so treasured and guarded seemed to mock her, taunt her with stories of love, of life, of adventure, or purpose.
"I want all that too!" Her heart cried; the voice one of despair, of defeat, of loneliness.
Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
The moments continued their cold relentless march, the seasons alternately changing their wear and their color. One moment there was light, birds singing, and the promise of blossoms on the grounds while the next moment there was red and gold in the air, crisp winds whistling by her window, leaves leaving their perch on the trees for the soft bed of grass. All this happened before her very eyes, all in what seemed a matter of minutes to her. She still had no hold on time, no hold on anything. She was drowning inside herself; clawing, fighting, desperate to break free, to find herself.
"I want to live, dear Merlin, I want to live..." the tears sang mournfully, barely clearing away the years of age and hurt on her visage.
Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
As the minutes and hours moved so did she. Her movement was only the semblance of being in control. She had none. She moved mechanically, doing what she knew, only what she knew. As the walls closed in around her, as the breath in her lungs thinned and as her heart seemed to lose its hale, lose its spirit, she held her head high. She sat at her desk, her eyes moving along the library... her library, watching everyone there, feeling stings and stabs of jealousy. They had futures; bright ones, full of promise. She had none.
"Tonight I think I die..." and she did die that night. Cause of death? Murder. Foul murder. Her murderer: a life of disappointment, regret, loneliness, and sorrow.
The minutes seemed to be slipping away from her. Slipping, fading, and floating far away. Too insubstantial for her to grasp tangibly, she had no choice, no say, but to let those moments float right by her. She was trapped in time. Each second stung. Each minute maimed her. Each hour, day, week, and month marched relentlessly past her. She was dying. She was dying inside herself; inside the walls she called home, sanctuary. The books she'd so treasured and guarded seemed to mock her, taunt her with stories of love, of life, of adventure, or purpose.
"I want all that too!" Her heart cried; the voice one of despair, of defeat, of loneliness.
Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
The moments continued their cold relentless march, the seasons alternately changing their wear and their color. One moment there was light, birds singing, and the promise of blossoms on the grounds while the next moment there was red and gold in the air, crisp winds whistling by her window, leaves leaving their perch on the trees for the soft bed of grass. All this happened before her very eyes, all in what seemed a matter of minutes to her. She still had no hold on time, no hold on anything. She was drowning inside herself; clawing, fighting, desperate to break free, to find herself.
"I want to live, dear Merlin, I want to live..." the tears sang mournfully, barely clearing away the years of age and hurt on her visage.
Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
As the minutes and hours moved so did she. Her movement was only the semblance of being in control. She had none. She moved mechanically, doing what she knew, only what she knew. As the walls closed in around her, as the breath in her lungs thinned and as her heart seemed to lose its hale, lose its spirit, she held her head high. She sat at her desk, her eyes moving along the library... her library, watching everyone there, feeling stings and stabs of jealousy. They had futures; bright ones, full of promise. She had none.
"Tonight I think I die..." and she did die that night. Cause of death? Murder. Foul murder. Her murderer: a life of disappointment, regret, loneliness, and sorrow.