Time Stopped

Imagine the concept of time ceased to exist as all the clocks froze along with the past, present, and future. Would the societies humanity has built crumble without its foundation's support? See time is a valuable part of life. Time is precious and greatly taken for granted. People wish for more of it yet waste it away unaware of when their time will run out. I hear you people whine of how the universe is against you when in reality- you are in control. Every unlucky event to happen needed an initial choice to prompt it. For goodness sake grade school still, teaches cause and effect does it not? 

The library’s walls are filled corner to corner with remarkable stories told by each soul, each story with unique perspectives. Lives of war heroes, mastermind criminals, royalties, and so much more. After a long day at work, reading these biographies is the only thing that keeps me from going mad. One could say these chapters fill a void or maybe the emptiness I never seem to shake. The notorious idea of life flashing before your eyes in a rush of seconds before the end is undoubtedly true but not in the way one would imagine. That bright light seen whilst letting go of the world you knew is almost like a stamp of some sort or even a snapshot, printing even the smallest details into fresh pages of your custom story.

As I walk along those ghostly rows of perfectly stacked books of life, I pause to view my most treasured tale of them all, reaching out to the book that calls my name every second of every day pulling me like a magnet to metal. In a worn leather chair, I adjust my glasses, book in hand. The spine is weakened and pages are tearing at the ends but this matters nothing to me. I brush the aged book cover and read aloud to myself “Heather Rose Hilligus, 1939-1979”. 

She lived an ordinary life no different from the average woman. Heather had been blessed into a wealthy family who loved her more than anything on God’s Green Earth. Her youth was standard for a young lady of the time, though her individuality was clear. Heather’s radiance was effortless, every room graced by the tapping of her heels was uplifted and filled with cheer in an instance. Aside from her beauty was her proficient mind which continuously threatened everyone she met. Knowledge stuck to Heather like glue, being an avid reader her whole life she broadened her outlook of the world. An object to be put on display is the perfect picture of what she never wanted to become. 

Expectations for this young flower were high. She was the embodiment of feminine grace, though her dreams were unlike the normalities. Rather than dreams of marriage and motherhood she wished for success and independence. Aspiring to be a writer she worked day in and day out seeming to never take a break to breathe. She craved for her voice to be heard but she was silenced. 

“Maybe it’s time for you to go out and meet a strong man who can take care of you when your father and I aren’t around anymore” her mother proclaimed once again as she did almost every morning since Heather’s birth.

Heather knew to express her true feelings about settling would only spark arguments between them. Instead, she kissed her mother and father both on the cheek and waved goodbye as she sprinted out the door to the streets of summer-time Manhattan. Heather whistled at one of the sunny cars and seated herself in the back.

“Maiden Lane, please” she requested while fixing her hair in the window reflection. 

“You got it, ma’am” 

The young woman rushed out of the car nearly forgetting her manners in such a hurry thanking the driver and handing him double the cost of the ride. In such a rush, her surroundings were not a priority until she slammed into a tall man, knocking his wristwatch to the pavement. Heather scrambled to pick it up, noticing a sharp fracture in the glass. Their eyes met and it felt as if the train of time had stopped abruptly in its tracks. Everything slowed down around her. New York was hushed. 

He was a lanky man with ice-blue eyes and black combed hair. He exhibited eeriness and mystery, Heather struggled to find the words for it but he radiated… cold. The man was formally dressed top to bottom in deep colors of smokey blacks, he wore a top hat printed with golden wings at the brim. What stood out the most though was his wide grin which welcomed you as if you had known him your whole life. 

The mysterious man studied Heather even more than she did him. He noticed her long blonde hair held up by a white scrunchie, her porcelain skin, and her blood-colored lips. Eyes greener than envy itself and full of a light he could not explain. Her smile was soft but warm. The dress she wore was ivory accompanied by white heels and a set of pearls draping along her chest.

“Please let me repay you” Heather said.

“Do not be ridiculous madam, I have millions of those. It really is no trouble” the man replied. 

Before she could get a word in the man interrupted her by saying “I mean not to be rude but I am running late, it was a pleasure meeting you Ms. Hilligus”

Within the blink of an eye, the man was gone. Heather stood in the middle of the walkway. Horns began honking again. Music played. People shoved her while swearing at the young girl standing stiff in their way. Mind vacant she remained still, broken watch in hand. 

Life went on but the connection between the two that afternoon was unforgettable. Heather was drawn to this man who she had no way of knowing. He visited her every night in her slumber and every morning in her writings. What she did not know was he faced these same feelings, but the man was aware they could not be together for reasons Heather would not be able to comprehend.

He followed her through every step of life. She would notice him every time but within seconds he would disappear into thin air as if he were never there. The day of her wedding clapping from the back pews, the birth of her firstborn, the funeral of her mother. He was there. Present for it all. 

Present on the night of June 2nd, 1979. Heather was heading back to her car after shopping at her local market as she did every other Thursday night, but what would follow in moments to come was a headline story for next Sunday's paper. With the key half turned in the lock, a pistol was pointed dead center of Heather’s back. The gunman demanded cash. Frightened Heather cooperated handing the man her leather bag. 

Her heartbeat was felt through her whole body. She tasted the salt of her tears and the bitterness of the eyeliner streaming across her skin. She saw a blur of an empty parking lot with a singular cart pushing itself through the wind. She smelt the June air and held the smooth top of her car. Her ears filled with the sound of sirens. 

The man holding the gun was what some would call an amateur criminal. A fool at most. His hands were shaky and his voice weak. Sirens startled the life out of him. His skin went white. Mr. Mystery could be seen running to them in the distance, face filled with horror knowledgeable of the events to follow. The sirens became louder with every second. The gunman panicked. 

Time froze once again. The gunman vanished. The sirens silenced. The mystery man sat beside Heather holding her hand. Her skin was porcelain, lips redder than roses, eyes greener than envy. Dress red. Heels red. Skin cold. The man closed her eyes. 

Forcefully, I slam the book closed, choking on tears. This has always been my least favorite part. Collecting myself I take my mind back to that warm June night. My breaths were shallow. I ran to her. I wanted to save her. I tried so hard, but this was out of my control. Time is assigned along with the birth of each soul, impossible to escape.I knew this. I kneeled in a pool of her blood grasping her delicate hands. I leaned to her, pushing back her tightly curled hair. My lips pressed hers. 

“I’m so sorry my love” I whispered in her ear. 

…

“Your time is up.”