Disclaimer: I don't own HP.
The outline
It was always right. It was always so damn right, that it felt wrong.
I stood there, the pale moonlight shone through the window at my body and left the wall on which I was staring in gloomy shadows. It was in shadows too. I sighed, feeling relived that I didn't need to see it. Without a real reason it made me feel better if I could not see it. Like a little child in a nightmare. If it didn't see the bad, the bad could not do anything. I stared at the dark shadow and the slightly darker thing in the middle of it. Yes, indeed, I felt better if I couldn't see it. I didn't have to look into it's eye. Did not have to face the truth. Not now. Just once I was save. It would be the last time. That however didn't really matter anymore. If it was just this time it would be ok.
After all there would not be another time anyway. I stared at the darker darkness and heard the slight heartbeat. It always did that. If you stood in the kitchen you could hear it. If it was late you always heart it. You could even hear it if you were upstairs. Sometimes in nights like these, it was louder than in others. It seemed to like full moon. On these days you would hide in your bed and press your eyes tightly together. Your heart would beat like as if you ran and you would sweat even if it was cold outside. Then you would stay awake for hours. Until it decided to give you a rest and got lower and lower. After it was silent again, you stayed up for another hour, shivering, whimpering, fighting inside. And then...finally- you would fall into just another dark dreamless sleep. But you would know, feel that it was just waiting for another night. One in which the moon would shine brighter than ever before. It would wait and...
...you would wait with it...
...wait and wait. Sometimes it would get tired of waiting and give you a warning. You would stand up in the middle of the night. And you would walk into the kitchen. There you would stare at it. And it would stare at you.
Then it would let you go and you would run back up into your bed and cover yourself and cry and cry and cry.
But you won't scream. You would know: it didn't like screaming.
And in the morning afterwards you stand up and start another day. You would forget it. Cheerful you would smile at the bright sky and laugh at the golden sun.
Until you get into the kitchen.
There it would hover above all your thoughts. You would feel restless until you get away. Outside it didn't harm you.
But just you wait till the sun sets. Just you wait till the shadows start creeping into your house. Just you wait till the shadows reach your kitchen and fill it with whispers and cries.
Just you wait...
The less shadows the less light. The less light the more darkness. The more darkness the more-
And they never realized you don't like it. They thought you were amazed of it's graceful darkness. They thought you liked it. And then they thought...
...you would like it as a birthday present.
And -damn- you got it.
They were always nice parents. Friendly and cheerful. Nice and kind. But they were nothing beyond that. They didn't see your inner fear. They couldn't see beneath your smiles and fake happiness. They didn't see what was always real.
Sometimes it felt like it was the only reality there ever was.
In a bad way. In a sad way. In your nightmare.
It would always tell your parents where their dearest were. It would never lie.
But you hated it.
You loathed it.
With all your might.
YOU
HATED
IT!
And it hated you.
I stood in front of it. The shadow beneath the shadow. I could hear it. I could even feel it.
So damn true, it almost hurt. How could it be so damn right?! Whatever happened it told you always the truth. It never lied. You could rely on it.
But you didn't.
It had told you everything. Whispered the truth into you. It had shoved the truth into you. Forced you to understand. And you heard it.
But you didn't.
It had told you about so many wars. You could remember each of them. Were they past of future? It was old. It was so damn old, you couldn't even imagine it's age. Sometimes, very few times, you would want to hear. You would hear and hear and hear and....
It was always right. It was always so damn right, that it felt wrong.
But no fear. Not anymore. This time everything was different.
It had told you about so many deaths that you felt just as dark as it was.
But there was still a memory inside you, which makes you shiver. There is still this one memory inside you which makes a small tear drop down your cheek. There is still one damn memory, so close and yet so far, one memory, ever present, ever real.
It had showed you Harry Potter's death.
I stared at the shadow beneath the shadow.
I saw.
I saw the outline of a clock.
I heard.
I heard it talking to me.
I felt.
I felt it was real. I felt it was right. It was the truth. Could it be fate? Was something just as simple as a clock possibly able to control?! Was it bad or good?
Could I kill it?
The last thing I saw, was the clock. Not just the shadow in the shadow, but the real clock. Shining brightly in the silver moonlight. And there was a hand. It vanished- as I vanished.
An.: For everyone who didn't understand what I wrote, a little explanation. (Since I already know that I tend to screw things up and people often simply can't understand my writings) The story is about Ron and a clock. The clock, out of the book. You know, the one which can show the Weasleys where the people of their family are. And how they are. XD That's the reason why I wrote this. It just kinda amazed me that anyone could see something like this in a good way. I always believed that nothing is able to be constantly perfect. But the clock is. And so I thought of a plot. He he... the clock got a thought-reading-monster...lol! It killed Ron! I killed Ron! I can't believe this...O.o; Sorry people...please review? I know it's not worth it...