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Cyun

Cyun

Posts: 2,389 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
CHRONOMENTROPHOBIA

Harvey Wells approached the dingy little shop in a river flurry of passerby Faces, scuffing passed him as he surveyed the squalid building. “Oxford Street Antiques” it read, in large peeling gold letters upon the rotting wood. He glanced in to the dusty window, displaying obscurely a harum-scarum array of poufs and cabinets. He entered. A jangle of a bell above the entrance sounded as he stepped inside, and the door slammed shut. It cut out all the bustling noise from out on the street instantly and left the dark room in an eerie, secretive silence. All around him were various bits of furniture; tall dim lamps with floral lampshades, towering mahogany wardrobes and a plethora of china in a cluttered heap, all of which was tagged and labeled in small square cards, with fading blue ink of Numbers and letters. He looked around for sign of flesh or Face, rather than higgledy-piggledies of chipped pottery or glossy wood.
“Hello?” He croaked. No one answered. Harvey sidled between the jumbled terrains, peering for what he had come in for. His grandmother wanted him to fetch a new footstool, as Tibbles, her cat, had scratched the last one to pieces. Again, he called out for the shop owner, but there was nobody to be seen. The shop seemed to be much bigger than it looked from the outside, and was packed full down a corridor-like passage, until finishing at two doors at the very end. Harvey furrowed his brow. He couldn’t find anything in this mess, and there wasn’t even another customer to ask. He sighed heavily, loathing Tibbles as he cautiously zigzagged betwixt precarious obelisk-like towers of bits and bobs and redundant buffets of paraphernalia.

12-Aug-2012 11:39:39 - Last edited on 12-Aug-2012 12:01:18 by Cyun

Cyun

Cyun

Posts: 2,389 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
He reached the end of the shop, at the front of twin doors and an abandoned counter. Harvey decided that the shopkeeper was probably in one of these entries. He opted for the left one. He opened the creaking door, revealing a small room spilling with…
Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock…
He screamed. Hundreds and hundreds of searing Faces of Clocks leered at him, scattered or in rows on shelves and hanging from the ceiling, jeering all around him. The oppressive sound jarred Harvey’s body and his skull felt like it was going to implode. Harvey’s innards lurched into a tense knot. He clamped his palms to his shuddering eardrums. His blood curdled in terror and his mind swam in dizziness as he rotated on the spot, gaping wide in stricken fear.
Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock…
His knees wobbled and gave way; he crumpled to the fusty carpet, whacking his crown on a sharp shelf, toppling brass and oak mantel Clocks in a terrifying avalanche. A cacophony resounded of the chiming of the hour, setting off a mine field of juddering symphonies, throbbing the whole room in a deafening vibration.
Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock…
His eyes rolled up inside his head and his body thrashed about in utter trepidation, his brain jolting and boiling in dread. A large grandfather Clock thundered down onto his legs, bloodying his knees and trapping him in the hellish cupboard.
Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock…
Harvey was submerged now in smashing Clocks tumbling down from all sides, sending glass and cogs and pendulums and timepieces and metronomes bulleting all asunder into his wide-eyed visage, mangled and disfigured in a fit of sheer panic. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t even hear anything except the constant, unstoppable, irrepressible, excruciating resonance of time.

12-Aug-2012 11:39:52 - Last edited on 12-Aug-2012 12:28:49 by Cyun

Cyun

Cyun

Posts: 2,389 Mithril Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock…
Behind him, distant shouts came from the doorway, and Harvey felt two Hands lifting his flailing Arms from out of the booming cave, dragging him from under the debris and slumping him outside. The cupboard door shut, muffling the frenzied noise from within. A flabby, though aghast face of an old man in half spectacles loomed over him lying panting on the floor.
“Blimey, you dint' half make a fuss--what the hell is the matter?” He didn't understand. His scarlet Face screwed backwards “Look at all of my precious Clocks! Broken! What the devil do you think you were doing, boy?” He shook the poor skeleton lightly. Harvey Wells’s agape eyes gazed up at the glistening chandeliers above, soaked in cold sweat and his temples pounding in primordial beating. He didn't understand. No one understood. Everyone was oblivious to the petrifying, horrifying sound of seconds.

12-Aug-2012 11:41:48 - Last edited on 12-Aug-2012 11:50:25 by Cyun

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