Time Traveler
Time is irrelevant and therefore I'm never late
- Local time
- Today 5:05 AM
- Messages
- 30
- Age
- 38
It has snowed now for what seems like an eternity. The white powder that dusts the horizon adds to the sheet of thick cotton that lays about the land. The gusting wind swoops past in harsh demonic howls and the only heat is from an old stone fireplace that is hungrily consuming the firewood that has been fed to it. The light from the fire causes the living area to flicker and dance with the beat of the flame. The cabin is cold but tolerable. The food supply is plentiful. The power has been out for over a week and the silence is becoming deafening. Deafening except for the small antique clock that is resting upon the fireplace mantel; ticking away that almost seems endless.
I wait.
I walk over to the icy distorted window and stare into the blank abyss that surrounds me. What was once a beautiful thriving mountain range and trees is now cloaked in the vast of countless minuscule snowflakes. I wait for this storm to be over so I may rejoin the outside world. For there I have big plans, high hopes, and dreams. I do not wish to be stuck in this cabin any longer. Alas, I have no choice. The trek through the snow would prove too dangerous for one person to make on his own. I have no choice. I must remain here and wait out this storm. The ticking is starting to match my heartbeat it seams; making a tune for my sanity to enjoy.
I wait.
Several days has passed. The storm is stubborn and won't let go of my shackles. I sit in an old wooden rocking chair and sip my warm cup of coffee that was made possible by the devils flame in the stone fireplace. I haven't shaved in days and my face is starting to itch. I watch the flames fight each other for their proper spot on the wood. A great deal of white and black ash has accumulated at the bottom of the fireplace; a cremation of all the wooden sacrifices I had to offer the flame to keep me alive. Then there's that damned clock. 'Tick Tick Tick' What was once a melody to soothe my soul has instead, risen anger. It has added to my despair.
I wait.
It has been going on a month and my supplies are critically low. All my windows, doors, and escape routes have been blocked off efficiently like a quarantine field. I have the plague of loneliness with no cure except for when mother nature decides to give it to me. I sit in darkness except for the faint light the fire is giving me which will not last much longer for I have exhausted my source of wood. My supplies are scarce and my situation is grim. Once again,
I wait.
My stomach rumbles with hunger and I have lost track of the passing days. It's been over a month since I was stuck in exile. I have moved my chair closer to the fireplace so I may burn the bare minimum and hopefully escape this hold that death has on me. Through the silence, the ticking of that antique clock is still piercing my ears like an arrow. I inadvertently begin rocking with the tick. My hands grip the arms of the rocking chair tight. My teeth are firmly gritted. My eyes are narrow. Unable to restrain myself, I stand up and grab the clock off the mantel and stare at it. My hands are shaking from both anger and from the cold. I throw the clock into the fireplace and watch it get consumed by the aura of fire. A certain amount of satisfaction flowed through my veins as I heard the clock give off its last tick. Shortly after, the clock fell apart into separate pieces of burning debris. Now the cabin was in pure and unquestionable silence. I smile as I sit back down to reflect on the silence in some poetic way.
I wait.
Frostbite is sure to follow quickly now that I have no heat. Hunger is tormenting me. Thirst, oh so thirsty. I managed to open the window in the back room to collect some snow. This won't do. I will not last and I can feel the devil standing next to me. Damned if he can have me. The silence. THE SILENCE! The silence is worse than the clock! What have I done? Time seemed to have stopped when I threw the clock into the blazing inferno. I can't wait anymore. If I wait, I die. There is nothing I can do. Except,
Wait.
I wait.
I walk over to the icy distorted window and stare into the blank abyss that surrounds me. What was once a beautiful thriving mountain range and trees is now cloaked in the vast of countless minuscule snowflakes. I wait for this storm to be over so I may rejoin the outside world. For there I have big plans, high hopes, and dreams. I do not wish to be stuck in this cabin any longer. Alas, I have no choice. The trek through the snow would prove too dangerous for one person to make on his own. I have no choice. I must remain here and wait out this storm. The ticking is starting to match my heartbeat it seams; making a tune for my sanity to enjoy.
I wait.
Several days has passed. The storm is stubborn and won't let go of my shackles. I sit in an old wooden rocking chair and sip my warm cup of coffee that was made possible by the devils flame in the stone fireplace. I haven't shaved in days and my face is starting to itch. I watch the flames fight each other for their proper spot on the wood. A great deal of white and black ash has accumulated at the bottom of the fireplace; a cremation of all the wooden sacrifices I had to offer the flame to keep me alive. Then there's that damned clock. 'Tick Tick Tick' What was once a melody to soothe my soul has instead, risen anger. It has added to my despair.
I wait.
It has been going on a month and my supplies are critically low. All my windows, doors, and escape routes have been blocked off efficiently like a quarantine field. I have the plague of loneliness with no cure except for when mother nature decides to give it to me. I sit in darkness except for the faint light the fire is giving me which will not last much longer for I have exhausted my source of wood. My supplies are scarce and my situation is grim. Once again,
I wait.
My stomach rumbles with hunger and I have lost track of the passing days. It's been over a month since I was stuck in exile. I have moved my chair closer to the fireplace so I may burn the bare minimum and hopefully escape this hold that death has on me. Through the silence, the ticking of that antique clock is still piercing my ears like an arrow. I inadvertently begin rocking with the tick. My hands grip the arms of the rocking chair tight. My teeth are firmly gritted. My eyes are narrow. Unable to restrain myself, I stand up and grab the clock off the mantel and stare at it. My hands are shaking from both anger and from the cold. I throw the clock into the fireplace and watch it get consumed by the aura of fire. A certain amount of satisfaction flowed through my veins as I heard the clock give off its last tick. Shortly after, the clock fell apart into separate pieces of burning debris. Now the cabin was in pure and unquestionable silence. I smile as I sit back down to reflect on the silence in some poetic way.
I wait.
Frostbite is sure to follow quickly now that I have no heat. Hunger is tormenting me. Thirst, oh so thirsty. I managed to open the window in the back room to collect some snow. This won't do. I will not last and I can feel the devil standing next to me. Damned if he can have me. The silence. THE SILENCE! The silence is worse than the clock! What have I done? Time seemed to have stopped when I threw the clock into the blazing inferno. I can't wait anymore. If I wait, I die. There is nothing I can do. Except,
Wait.
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