Fiction with a Little Touch of Different

Well, I suppose I write, er, differently. How about we think of the styles lately as experimental and enjoy where is goes.

Happy Fiction Saturday – I think the clock is ticking again. Or is it?

Fiction and the Clock

Paulio Geordio, CC BY 2.0, via Flickr

The Wise Clock

The clock ticked and ticked, and the noise grew to be more than just a skip across a wooden face. I realized it was past lunchtime. This clock took on a meaning beyond the wall it hung on, beyond the couch I sat on, beyond the door that was closed because he hadn’t walked through it yet.

The clock turned into a symbol of hatred that hung five inches from below the living room ceiling. It taunted me, telling me that he was late for a meal, the latest cry, the newest streak of sunshine through the dusty window blinds at the side of the room.

I stared at the clock and dared myself not to blink, hopeful that the dryness of my eyes would pain them into darkness and his face, the clock face, my own face, would all become only shadows I faintly remembered.

Staring ahead, the clock began to move, left and down the wall, as though falling along with my hopes. Then its metal hands began to bend and move, detach, unhand themselves from the base they had been so long attached to. I gasped, and my breath was heavy with the coffee taste from breakfast, one hour before the Vodka flavor. I reached out for the clock and grabbed the longer hand of the two – taking it within my fingers, making a fist around it.

It was only when the pain in my hand matched the pain I had felt in my eyes that I understood. Drops of blood ran down from my palms as I opened my hand to see the metal had dug into my skin. I smiled as I felt pain, as I felt soberness, and I felt his breath was somewhere close by. I closed my hand on the metal that felt warmth I hadn’t handled in years, and I wondered, was there something I was doing wrong?

***

~This is christyb in fiction-land.

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45 thoughts on “Fiction with a Little Touch of Different

  1. Janine Huldie

    Wow so very powerful Christy and felt like I was right there seeing is person go through the bitter emotions and pain, too. Love your short stories and wishing you a wonderful rest of your Saturday night now.

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  2. Aquileana

    Hello Christy

    Your story made me think in a sort of duel between the main character and time as a subjective variable. ( “It taunted me, telling me that he was late for a meal, the latest cry, the newest streak of sunshine through the dusty window blinds at the side of the room”).

    I also found an interesting game of reflections, recognition and identification between the main character and the wise clock (Ie: ” the clock face, my own face, would all become only shadows I faintly remembered”). This identification reminded me of Oscar Wilde´s “Portrait of Dorian Gray”.

    The pleasure of flawless bloody victory, which goes together with the pain for the wounds in the palms of your hands (“I smiled as I felt pain, as I felt soberness, and I felt his breath was somewhere close by”).

    We can leave behind what hurt us in the past but regrets are meant to pour into our present days…
    We can destroy a wise clock but we would never stop time as it ever flows. Memories are blurred presences subtly lying beneath, and they stirringly beg to come out from the old realms of past times.. Thoroughly
    We somehow keep on remembering what we want to forget.
    That´s why the most important defy is the one which faces us with our own shades..

    Thanks for sharing… I enjoyed it and as a matter of fact I have found it pretty intelectual.

    Keep it up; xo; Aquileana 🙂

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    1. Christy Birmingham Post author

      I have read your comment now many times, Aqui. Each time I pick out something else you noticed. Thanks for dipping within the layers with me. I know the ending isn’t an easy one, but then life isn’t easy… is it… I do like the way you picked up on the different faces and the similarities between them. The reference to Oscar Wilde is such an honor!

      Wishing you a lovely Sunday. I thank you as well for the continuous support of my work. Love to you! xo

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  3. Sue Dreamwalker

    Amazing piece of writing I was sat with you, watching the ticking hearing its tock.. I felt the dry tears, the pain and saw the blood… Wonderful expressive fiction writing Christy Your talent gets better and better my friend…
    So lovely to catch up with this post..
    Take care. and have a brilliant week.. Hugs Sue xox

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  4. Letizia

    I agree with the others, this is a powerful piece. I love being witness to your experimentation in your writing – thank you for giving us a glimpse into that, into the creative process. It does feel like the start of a longer piece almost. But it holds its own as well. I think it’s because it’s a piece that makes you think and makes you want to reread it – that’s why it feels like the start of something perhaps.

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  5. seanbidd

    The items, things, elements which make walls their residence, can breed stories far stranger than fiction. For what witness does the soul of a wall bear, and does it share it with those whom hang upon it, between decades past, and decades now. In what ever way, time persists in its constant wail, until when such hands shall whisper distant sounds no more. If walls and their friends might speak, the tales of the many past events, Stories as shared by the room.

    Just pondering, what dark space exist when the lights are out.

    Christy, incredible piece of writing too!

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    1. Christy Birmingham Post author

      Sean, those stories sounds swift with the current of emotion! Wonderful to read your comment, as always. The darkness holds so much, doesn’t it?… Thanks for your compliment too (as you know, I enjoy your creativity as well).

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  6. hilal achmar

    Dear Christy
    I closed my hand on the metal that I had not felt warmth handled in years, and I wondered, was there something I was doing wrong?

    Very beautiful! Time is the Punisher, as well as liberators. Reading your posts, I also began to realize, that, there is a lot wrong that I did, related to time. Time provides many opportunities for us. And silently and surely, he will punish us if we do not use it.

    However, time also will relieve us of a sense of deep remorse, if we use the next time, to grab the golden opportunity provided. I guess Pathways to Illumination, which I read in Maggie Thom recommendation website, will answer the question: was there something I was doing wrong? No matter the answer is yes or no, the time has make peace with you. 🙂 Hilal Achmar

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    1. Christy Birmingham Post author

      Aha, Hilal, you are having realizations through the written word. I take this feedback as quite the compliment, as it is prompting you to rethink and see lessons of learning. Thanks for such a well-written comment and, yes, Pathways does certainly touch on elements of time within its pages. I enjoy your posts, as well, and am wishing you a day of time that is well spent 🙂

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  7. Gray Dawster

    This is a truly gripping piece of writing Christy, I have really enjoyed your story, wow I need to call in here more often with such powerful words etched into your Space 🙂 🙂 Keep up the great work and I will surely call again soon to backtrack through your postings.

    Have a wonderful rest of day and a lovely evening my dear friend 🙂

    Andro xxxx

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