A Ticking, Talking Time Bomb

 I awoke with a scream, my nightshirt drenched from sweats of unquenched passion; a lingering smell of forgotten desire. As always my mind drifted to familiar thoughts. What time is it?! Relax. Calm yourself. It is not against the law to sleep. I dared to drift back asunder, to dream in a world filled with endless creations —  of women far too beautiful; of birds that sang mystical symphonies; of colours that did not exist. The warmth of my bed was intoxicating — completely and utterly — for it was a terribly cold and terribly wicked winter day. I felt it in my bones as I heard the devilish whip of the wind whistling through the roof, laughing with triumph. And this is how most of my days began for as long as I can remember. I had to move before the cold imprisoned me and my mind decayed, a rotten thing really, the optionality to roll over and die. If I told you that I had not touched, nor tasted, nor glimpsed another, I told true, as it had been well over a month since I had happened upon a fellow person. But when you live alone, without a job, and have never been one to seek meaningful friendships, you learn to speak to yourself as if you were another. Without much doubt it could be said that I was of studious nature, a creature of habit, a peculiar being not entirely of human descent — and surely, yes at this point you fancy me unwell. I too have heard how isolation breeds madness, how the hollow cries of solitude create contempt! But I was well equipped for the lonesome journey towards death, trust me. I did not feel saddened, I did not feel cumbersome; there was no heartache forged within. My hatred of companionship, my loathe of simple greetings, the charmless conversations — how are you? but do you actually care about my well being in the slightest polite stranger?—  it was all a game worthy of the label torture. Who needs any of it? Certainly not me for I had my own shadow and the only thing I ever needed, my closest confidante, always at arms reach.

As I stretched out my body in the utmost magnificent manner, a cacophony of sounds filled the empty room — bones cracking, teeth clacking, ankles clicking, watch ticking. The sound overcame me whilst I lay still, motionless, enveloped in its eternal rhythm. But then another — so loud! So piercing! It was the perfunctory beep signalling the dawn of a new hour. The nightstand was empty except for a weathered and unread copy of the Holy Bible and my sleek silver watch that lay beside it. I marvelled at its elegance, at its irresistible aesthetic. You may think it was only a wristwatch, and of course you would, for what more can it be? Perhaps I will find it too difficult to properly articulate its value, too taxing to describe its significance, but it was no ordinary personal attachment. It had not been a family heirloom passed on through generations, nor had I paid an extravagant amount of money for it. There was only the most delicate clasp that held it to my wrist but where it actually attached itself was inside the dark recesses of my mind. There is where this time teller echoed its true sentiment. You see what possessed me was the numbers. Without them I could not live! Without them I could not breathe! To the naked, uninformed eye they did not reveal their tricks, but to me, from my perilous perspective I saw the unseeable. I was well versed in their foreign language. It was wonderfully, exceptionally, positively brilliant! My own Morse code! What was it you ask? Hear me. Listen. A watch continues to tick, nor is ever without a tock. On and on it continues, both to the ear and for the eye. My obsession, my compulsion was rooted in the seconds — the ever-changing seconds —  and how they revealed to me an abundance of options. For this and for that! Go here or go there! The numbers punctured my thoughts and made my decisions from the second I arose. They told me what to wear, how to act, where to go, they even told me when to stop. It's silly no doubt, indeed rather preposterous, yet the wonders of a found treasure overcame me — the thought of separation filled me with an anxiety that could not be replicated. You see, I had become a programmed machine, and could not differentiate between myself and my programmer. Perhaps I, Victor Frankenstein, and the numbers of my monstrous salvation! I was numb from the numbers; suckling at their tit, mouth overflowing with milk, a fiend full of frenzy! Forever entangled in the slippery slope of time I had forsaken myself with the illusion of choice.

To any man unsullied by these thoughts of delusion, there must exist an example that illustrates my arithmetic. To set the scene proper, picture me in my kitchen. I know what I’m doing but not how I’ll get there. I look at the watch, the slender shape of the seconds reads sixteen. one six. Add them up, that makes seven! So into the cupboard I go, where the coffee mugs sit idly, reaching in and hooking my fingers onto the seventh cup, the seventh! And not only that, oh no, even after brewing a cup of the wicked brown sludge, I glanced again upon my watch – twenty one! – Add them up, yes that's three! So it was decided, the exact increment of sips in which I would come to ingest the beverage. Insanity you jest? — But listen! — For I feared the same, my mind was melting from the presence of poison. The worry accosted me day and night, hauntingly so, until with great care I brought the dilemma upon my doctor. Whilst leaving out some of the more peculiar details of my ailment, I described it to him and my point was well made — I’ve lost my mind I’m afraid! He nodded and murmured — scribbling on his pad — would you believe that he had just the remedy to alleviate my demons? 

They were small pills, white pills with numbered engravings, easy to swallow with a cup full of water. In the beginning I doubted their effectiveness but as time wore on, I felt my disorder and its frequency to be less. Less destructive, less consuming. And finally the day arrived where I didn’t crave the ticking wisdom, I was free from my chains, no longer enslaved! A man reborn, and with such conviction! I used my favourite mug, wore my most comfortable sneakers, and as the walls of my madness collapsed, even my recollection improved! My youth flooded back to me, an abundance of warm memories and jolly songs. One that I treasured most dearly was a rhyme my mother whispered from the edge of my bed. I could remember the rhythm, but what were the words! Then suddenly like inspiration they struck! There was an old lady that swallowed a spider. It wiggled and jiggled and tickled inside her! How apropos! For the first time in my life I was myself complete; mind wiggling with wonder, belly jiggling with laughter, soul tickling with pleasure! It was the doctor again who suggested I bid good riddance to the numbers once and for all, say goodbye to my wristwatch, abolishing the temptation as he put it. How spectacular! How effortless he made it sound, like tossing an apple core in the trash when it is brown and wormy! Easy as it sounded, the numbers were not one to go down without a fight. For I alone knew the temptation and how it schemed so fiercely, how it looked upon me — lurking and waiting —  how clear it had been that they would never leave me unless driven by force. And so I did, I did what the doctor said, but first I planned and I plotted. The fantasies were boundless — I pictured walloping the watch with a hammer, until yes, finally the face would become unrecognizable! I envisioned breaking it with my bare hands and tossing the shattered remains into the streets! Oh how the neighbours would rejoice and cheer from the windows, a harmonious cry of splendor!

The way in which I prepared the evening's festivities was delightfully clever! First was the matter of liquid persuasion as every momentous occasion in one’s life should be accompanied by the finest desires. A glass of scotch, make it a double! Then next came the music of which I decided to turn as loud as permitted, so loud that even a deaf man would beg for silence! The sounds of Symphony No. 5 whistled and bristled through my hollow home whilst I lit candles — two here, one there, why not a couple everywhere! — It was quite breathtaking, a mesmerizing scene of pure masterpiece. The emotion welled up within me, and I found myself swaying weightlessly, carelessly around in circles. It was rather romantic if I’m honest, the way I held my timepiece near, the way I nuzzled it so; a last dance with the love of my life, her demise rapidly approaching. How could it be that things had gone so ill between us? For the beat of its heart was so precious, so divine. It felt almost as alive as I! Yet the beauty of love, the tragic simplicity, is that it only exists in the eye of the beholder and therefore at any moment, a switch may be flipped and you could decide to destroy it! Such power, such unworthiness! With the desperate need for freedom coursing through my veins, a dark rage exploded from me and I hurled it, a fastball straight at the wall! Again, again, and again! But the ticking persisted! I stomped and I stumped it, showing not a shred of mercy! Wait! Listen! Was it over? The thump-pump of my own heart drowned out the silence….  But HOW?! The vile sound remained! Over the candlelight I examined the damage; the face was smashed terribly, pieces of it hanging this way and that. Into the flame I lowered it, the sizzle oh so sweet! A tick then a tock; slowly and again — again until nothing; nothing left but the burnt remnants of a torturous timepiece.

Fast forward through time to a place much more quiet; for the sun had long since set and darkness enveloped my home. The state of me was a wreck for I had fallen ill after my dramatics — collapsed in my bed, with not a thought in my head. The dreams I had were wicked things, tales of monsters, of screams, and of murder! I was trapped! Couldn’t move! Overwhelmed with the sense of terror! In a web I was stuck, and along came the spider! Her eight pure black eyes stuck right out beside her! She opened her mouth— Just one bite, relax, it’s alright —  Suddenly I sat straight up in my bed, the thundering of my heart revealing its discontent. But then came a movement, chilling me to the bone! Worse than any nightmare, was a nightmare come to life! --- a slithering shadow lurking in the dark not but two feet from my bed! Who is there?! Show yourself! In horror my hand fell upon another hand; flakey, calloused, and burnt — a stranger! a murderer! a mutant! A scream — a voice, oh no, not a voice but a sound — piercing the ear! It was that of a beast in terrible agony, a shrill violin squeak hanging in the air. It stumbled upon me and into my vision, for tonight was a full moon and the light shone through the curtains with theatrical intent. Oh my! It was wretchedly deformed and tragically burnt — contorted most wickedly! A sensation rose from my spine and travelled up — up, up, up, oh the feeling even now persists — sending each strand of my hair rising at once! It is such a rare occurrence, a woeful event, these instances when death appears before you — the unavoidable shadow that has been looming all along —  when truly we do see just how much we hold on to! Albeit frozen in fear, I jumped from my sheets, flinging myself at the beast! Its breath was that of decay, a stench so stark that it took intense efforts not to vomit at once. Gripped in maniacal panic, I wrapped the sheet around what appeared to be its neck and as the struggle evolved, there came a sound so familiar! A tick then a tock. One then the other. Another. And over again. And how could I ignore this sound, how could I not see this savage for what it was! Who am I to kill, to take a life, not a hunter, nor a slaughterer! My murderous intentions ceased, the beastly head poked out of the dark and growled with ferociousness! This time as I looked upon it — not it, but her! — I saw the scarred remains of what was once a beautiful woman. Different, yes, peculiar, sure, but a living, breathing beauty right before my eyes! And such torment I had caused her! She must have known that I had surrendered the battle, as she let me lay my head upon her chest. Indeed! My suspicions were confirmed! Her heart didn’t beat like mine or your own, the thumps were ticks — the pumps were tocks! A marvelous reincarnation! Her eyes met mine, a tear of sadness slid down her crusty cheek. Well of course after such destruction, she was in desperate need of some gentle reproach. There was only one thing to do and it happened so fast; our bodies converging as one, until – yes, further, deeper – I wiggled, I jiggled, I tickled inside her! We gasped cries of rapture as our bodies jerked rigid, entangled in our mess of near death experience and passionate love making. For exactly nine minutes — I know yes, because I counted along — I listened to the excellent sound of her heart beat ticking away. Then later as we stood, I had a chance to finally admire her properly. To the rest of the world she would be thought a barbarian, but to me and to all the years that I had known her, she was perfection personified. Oh how I cried, I wept, I fell to my knees! You are a work of art! And I, your artist! To hang her on the wall would be an injustice, to display her in a museum would be cunningly cruel, but to keep her for myself, myself only — and my devilish pleasures — now that was just. 

After a few days of ravenous relations, I began to notice how she looked longingly through the windows. I knew if anyone else saw her, she’d be taken away at once. And so I cautioned her from her hopes; I explained to her the nature of hate that permeated this planet; I told tales of the nasty people outside and the twisted science experiments she would be forced into! But on and on she begged, let her go out in the dark. Hm. For this I couldn’t argue any longer and finally I agreed. She deserved to see the stars, feel the wind on her skin. So once the world went to sleep and the neighbourhood had settled, we set out in tandem, disappearing into the night. But soon after we departed, a sobering truth smacked me right on the head; for the way she walked was disgusting, a horrifying, excruciating sight! The shadows revealed her as she truly was! Tragically I had created a person – no not a person, but a thing –  that would eternally exist in pain. It wasn’t a fit of rage that befell me this time, nor another plot of careful precision; for the plan had not hatched any earlier than the execution of it. It was merely a difference in understanding, a fresh perspective! A rock had been in my hand, I cannot even remember how it got there, a rock yes! The rock appeared over her head — not her, it! it! —  and fell down with a terrible crack! Yes it was my hands, for who else could it have been! The blood of the beast dripped down my arms — down, down, down, further! — As I continued to swing; once, twice, three times, and again! Its skull split right open, the brains on display! — warm, sticky, squishy, gooey, and chewy!! —  Yet it was not the brain that interested me, it was the heart! The heart belonged to me after all! I promise it was not stone cold madness but love that possessed me! — unrequited love! — I pounded the chest, beat it, smashed, ripped it right open! Digging deep, deep, and deeper until — alas in my hands! Right there I found it! Oh how the feeling was ripe! I remembered the old lady who swallowed the spider — and now I knew why she had put it inside her. To leave behind a life of worry and woe, I lifted the ticking heart and admired it so! I munched and I crunched it, every tick, every tock. The thought of it now makes me lick my lips as I talk! Perhaps I could say that the experience was frightful, but to tell you the truth it was rather delightful!