TITLE: "Tick, tick, tick (The perennial chorus of Time)"
AUTHOR: Oriane Hong
ARTIST: Jacarri
9 years earlier
The colored pieces kept slipping out of my flimsy hands. I glanced at the bold letters in the instructions booklet that told me I was doing everything wrong. A concentrated frown etched on my face, a crease that I often had trouble smoothing out.
Click, click, click. The chunks laboriously assembled to form somewhat of an abode. I stared at the pictures for a long time before grabbing a yellow block near me. It seemed right, so I stuck it on the roof of the house.
My aunt gave me a set of Legos for my sixth birthday. She said I was a smart girl, and that my creativity should express itself in a smart way. To me though, there was nothing creative about following orders from a pamphlet that seemed to glare at my every move.
I considered this for a while, then turned to Caramelle the Camel that was sitting peacefully in the corner of my room with George the Giraffe and Heather the Horse.
“Hey Caramelle! Do you think I should continue building this house? Or should I destroy everything?”
Her pearl black eyes glinted maliciously under the sunlight. I thought I could catch a glimpse of a smirk tugging at the tip of her camel lips. Caramelle had always been the destructive type.
“Oh! How about you, Heather?”
Her quiet whine of disapproval reached my ears. I turned to George for his opinion; he stood there, frozen, impassive. I looked back at my building with brick walls, a tiled roof, and a room.
After much reflection, I picked up the whole thing and smashed it to the ground. I then threw the booklet away from me as far as I could (with the mighty strength of a six year old, of course).
I was dreaming of something much bigger.
Looking at the pieces around me, I realized that when you are left with nothing, there is so much potential for all that you could rebuild. Ideas filled my mind to the brim.
With all the excitement and motivation in the world, I started creating what I thought would be the next masterpiece of the century, carefully connecting the blocks one by one.
Click, click, click.
***
“...happy birthday to you!” The song finishes with a round of applause.
Clap, clap, clap.
I blow at the candles in front of me and watch the flames be smothered, as my family once again erupts in loud cheers.
My mom makes her way to me, her hazel eyes shining. She hands me a neatly wrapped present with “Happy Birthday!!” written on it in cursive letters, which immediately brings a warm feeling to my chest: I know with just a glance that she’s the one who packaged it.
“Happy birthday, honey! Dad and I took a lot of time picking out a gift for you this year. We hope you love it.”
“Thanks, Mom! I’m sure I will,” I answer as I set it on the table.
I carefully rip off the wrapping paper so as to not hurt her feelings, and see a small navy blue box reveal itself.
“Jewelry?” I guess tentatively.
My mom merely smiles and gestures at me to open it. When I do, I find a beautiful black watch with gold accents lying on a leather support.
“That’s so beautiful!” I gasp and delicately take it out of the container, clasping it to my wrist. I stay speechless for a moment, admiring its elegance. “I love it. Thank you so much, Mom!”
I jump from my seat and go hug her. The embrace somehow feels like an even better gift.
“Of course, honey. You’ve worked so hard this year. Thank your dad, too. He’s the one who had the idea of getting you a watch.”
I look up to my dad and give him a bear hug too.
I have the best parents in the world.
The rest of the night goes on as usual, with the sound of cutlery against plates, and glasses chiming against each other.
Clink, clink, clink.
***
Later on in the evening, after my shower, I stand in the mirror.
“I’ve grown so much,” I whisper to myself. There’s nothing to my voice—nor happiness nor melancholy.
For the first time today, my chest feels hollow.
When I get out of the bathroom, I find my mom picking up a big red box. The hole within me deepens a little further, to unfamiliar depths in my ribs.
My legos.
“Hi, honey. I was just picking things around the house for charity. I think we should give your legos away, don’t you think? You’ve outgrown them at fifteen.” She grins at me, so I force a smile on my face.
“I don’t know, mom.”
I definitely don’t want to give them away.
“They take up space, honey. Besides, you never play with them anymore.”
She’s right. But a part of me is holding on for dear life to those legos—for what reason I don’t know.
“It’s for charity, honey. You’re growing up now.”
I’m too tired to argue so I end up letting her take the box away. As soon as she steps out of my room, regret hits me and my hands itch to snatch it away from her, selfish as it may be.
I slowly hear the sound of the plastic bits hitting against the box fade away.
Tap, tap, tap…
***
When I go to bed that night, I admire my watch again. Its gold details glisten in the dark, practically blinding me.
But that’s when I hear it.
Tick, tick, tick.
The hand indicating the seconds moves little by little around the dial. Painfully slowly, but also a lot too fast for me. I tuck myself in bed and pull the sheets up to my head. They feel cold.
Very cold.
I shake off this dismal feeling that flanks my confidence, and close my eyes to fall asleep.
Tick, tick, tick.
After what feels like an hour, my eyes are still wide open, and my mind very much alive. My ears, cursed. Fear pools inside the fissured crevices of my heart.
It’s all that I can hear.
Tick, tick, tick.
I’ve worn watches before, but they’ve never been this loud. Without me knowing it, another hour passes by, then another. I barely sleep at all, as I’m haunted by the same sound, over and over.
Tick, tick, tick.
***
The next morning, I discover with both surprise and disappointment that I still haven’t become deaf.
Tick, tick, tick.
For the entire day, it’s all I listen to. It’s like my ears have declared it their anthem, and I can’t get it out of my head. I knew ink could be permanent, but sounds? It seems like they can, because the noise taunts me, etching an indelible mark upon my sanity.
And when night time comes, I can’t take it, so I set it on my desk, as far from my bed as possible.
Yet, even from the other side of my room: it. doesn’t. stop. At this point, I’m more terrified than I have ever been.
Tick, tick, tick.
***
The next day, I go insane.
This watch has been playing with the last remnants of my lucidity. I can’t possibly take this for my entire life.
I grab it from my desk and run to the park to destroy it. I don’t want mom to find me smashing her gift, if possible. If she asks me why I’m not wearing the watch, I’ll say I lost it. It’s not the best solution, but it’s all I have.
When I get there, I throw it to the ground as hard as I can, several times. When I pick it up, there’s nothing. Not even a scratch.
And still, of course, there’s that same sound.
Tick, tick, tick.
Desperate, I even go to our rooftop to throw it down three stories. I try burning it, drowning it, stabbing it, wrecking it.
Still nothing.
I know after every attempt that it hasn’t worked, because the music still echoes in my soul like the worst song imaginable.
Tick, tick, tick.
***
The day after, I have a brilliant epiphany. With determination, I bury it in the charity bag that my mom keeps in her room. There. They can have that watch. Bonus points: she’s taking the bag away today.
With all the relief in the world, as my mom pulls out that afternoon to give away the bag, I hear the sound slowly fading, evanescing quietly, until my ears have finally been blessed with silence.
I breathe.
***
A few days later, I’m already starting to like my life much better. I’ve never tasted silence this sweetly, never been blessed by tranquility this pristinely.
On the way home from school, I pass by the park, and I see a little boy playing with legos.
Words lodge in my throat as nostalgia and remorse bite at my lips, a bitter feeling settling on my tongue.
Oh, to be a little innocent child again.
I continue ruefully making my way back, but when I reach my doorstep, I see a package on the ground. My name is inked on the sticker that was carelessly slapped on the cardboard.
I pick it up…
…And.
I.
Hear.
It.
Again.
Tick, tick, tick.
“NO!” I scream, letting go of the box in terror. The sound feels like a pulse now, a living thing. I am persuaded that this thing is alive.
That this damned tick, tick, tick is the heartbeat of Time, its perennial chorus.
Ire brings a crimson blood-stained lens to my sight, as I tear the box apart.
“No, no, no,” I mutter under my breath. “This can’t be happening.”
But of course, inside the box, smirking at me, I find a glistening black watch with golden accents.
Tick, tick, tick…
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