300 Days of Writing
Day 48 Time:
Clocks spun faster and faster every year until Saundra had no choice but to admit that time was gone.
She had been in denial for years. Her work as a cuckoo clock maker had made her resistant to the inevitable truth that clocks and time as humans knew it was now gone.
“It had all been an illusion,” the radio chimed at her as she sipped her coffee. “What we need to think about now is space. Place. Where are we and where are we headed.”
“Bullshit,” she said to her mug. She said alone in her kitchen, the dim mid-day light fought its way through the stippled glass window. While clocks had sped up into whirling turning tops, the sun had seemed to settle in the sky. Just hanging above the horizon, not moving. It had caused chaos in Australia, their never ending night had given way to an increase in crime and a spike in emigration into her country.
Saundra walked through into her living room. The floor was littered with tiny gears and springs, mechanisms that had driven her mad when the clocks first started to turn.
She picked up an abandoned cuckoo bird and smashed it against the wall.
Сайхан Бичээрэй!
H