{"id":113,"date":"2024-06-27T16:20:19","date_gmt":"2024-06-27T16:20:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/mich.ahvmeene.com\/?p=113"},"modified":"2025-04-02T09:33:38","modified_gmt":"2025-04-02T09:33:38","slug":"the-ticking","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/2024\/06\/27\/the-ticking\/","title":{"rendered":"The Ticking"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

As to why I\u2019ve always been so drawn to old places, I can only imagine myself trying to put the words together in a way that the answer doesn\u2019t sound so crazy. I\u2019ve been asked maybe too many times. Why do you like old places so much? <\/em>I feel as if, if they had experienced what I went through, they\u2019d get it. Oh, they\u2019d get it. Some may have been too scared to go back to a place like that afterwards, some might have gone directly to a psychiatric evaluation, therapy even; some might have ignored it\u2026 or maybe they would\u2019ve done something like me, who\u2026 well, to start with, didn\u2019t know what the fuck to do. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before I keep going, let\u2019s allow that first part to truly sink in, shall we?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Weird, isn\u2019t it? You\u2019re probably wondering, where the hell is this story heading? I just liked the title of it, and now you\u2019re talking some real random ass shit about old spaces, psychiatric appointments, and God knows what else. Why yes, yes this is <\/strong>weird, I agree. And before you keep reading just to end up blowing up my email with insults only a five year old would say because you didn\u2019t like my story, let me warn you- it will <\/strong>get weirder. This story contains no logic whatsoever, so if you\u2019re looking for some normal content, this isn\u2019t it. We don\u2019t do normal here.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There, much better. Now, where were we?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ah yes, my testimony of July 13 of 2013.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was about to tell y\u2019all where this… event took place but, does it actually matter? All you need to know is that I was visiting a big, astonishing castle as old as your great great greatest grandma. I went there alone because I like taking my time in the process of imagining, feeling, analyzing, smelling, and basically over-doing everything while in places like that. And well, not everybody fancied that, and since I wasn\u2019t going to adjust to peoples preferences, I just went alone. Much better, if you ask me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The entrance of the castle was huge. Not only that, but everything really. Huge corridors, roofs, windows, curtains, chandeliers, beds, bathrooms, furniture, mirrors, saloons. All of them filled with stories. I was supposed to take the audio guide, since I pretty much had to pay for an entrance that included it, but I didn\u2019t take it. I never did. Why? I just liked figuring it out by myself. I didn\u2019t really care if the things I imagined had nothing to do with the actual situation that developed inside those spaces. And well, I guess if I had had those headphones on, it<\/em> would\u2019ve never happened. No, I don\u2019t guess- I am certain of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As soon as I entered that room, I knew something was off. Something felt different, unsure, like out of place. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

First, I heard the ticking. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And I didn\u2019t understand, you know? I just stood there, in the middle of a big Victorian-style room and thought, is there a working clock around here? <\/em>Everything was so old, I just couldn\u2019t wrap my head around it. A bit stupid, if you ask me- who on earth would want to put a working clock on a room that\u2019s been dead for so long? Something wasn\u2019t clicking\u2026 the ticking wasn\u2019t clicking. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked around, searching for the artifact that was in charge of transmitting that sound, but found nothing. Nothing but loud silence, and heavy loneliness. There was no one in the room I was at, and even though I could hear the loud ticking, the silence was almost tangible, and together with that ticking, it started to become overwhelming. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly, my heart synchronized with the ticking of the non existent clock. Once synchronized, they began pacing. Slowly, but noticeably faster. Was I having a moment of freaking madness? Carefully, I started moving around the room, trying to find the artifact. I wasn\u2019t planning on breaking it if I found it was I?<\/em>, but hell, not being able to see it but only hear it was driving me crazy. When I approached the chimney, the sound got heavier, louder, faster- thicker. I looked around in case I wasn\u2019t alone and after I made sure I was, I knelt in front of the big, cold chimney. The outside was made of white pale marble topped with golden finishes, and inside, as a chimney that\u2019s been used too many times would look, black dust was the only thing to be seen. I closed my eyes to let the ticking sink. To listen, actually listen. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nobody could have prepared me for the moment when I opened my eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The fire, small but warm, shined inside the chimney. A perfect balance between orange, red, yellow, and a little blue at the top. Maybe even green-ish? No, wait a second. Why was I thinking about the colors? That didn\u2019t sound right. What I should\u2019ve been wondering is how the fuck was there a fire, right in front of me, inside a place that had been dead for so long. Then I thought okay, this must be part of some sort of show included in the ticket. A show I paid for. Could it be? <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ticking had stopped though. The fire, now dancing through the brown wood was starting to warm up my skin. I was getting hot. Very hot, in fact. I didn\u2019t remember having brought thick clothing though, since it was summer of course, and well I am not mad. What was I going to do, take my shirt off? I had no sweater on whatsoever. I had a simple short and a small, tight shirt. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But- oh Maria. No, I did not.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I brought my haze down to my body, I found not a piece of similar clothing to the one I was thinking of seconds ago. Not the same, not similar, no nothing. Because; and listen to me, this will sound as crazy as it was. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I had a gown on. I had a gown<\/strong> <\/em>on. Not any gown, no. I had a big, heavy, puffed Victorian gown on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I jumped backwards on my knees, scared and confused. Scared and fucki- and fucki-,<\/em> I couldn\u2019t think of the words. I couldn\u2019t finish them. Instead, my head screamed- frightened and goddamned bewildered! <\/em>I froze at the formulated sentence in my head. I never talked like that! <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood up carefully, trying not to fall because of the heavy and long gown I had on. When I managed to do so, I looked around. The room looked\u2026 younger? New? Re-born? The long and thick curtains where now vibrant crimson red, the windows where as clear as the water on a fresh, clear river; the floors, shiny as a newly bought mirror. Newly bought mirror\u2026 Like the one I was seeing just in front of me. The one that held my figure, my image, throwing it back at me. Telling me this is you. <\/em>Begging me, come closer, dearest. <\/em>And I did. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carefully, I took slow steps forward. When I finally reached the biggest, clearest mirror I had seen in my life, I stood still, frightened at the image. The gown was purple. But not any kind of purple- tender, soft, lavender purple. Short sleeves with puffed shoulder pads were decorating my arms, as well as white, long and soft gloves. A white corset braided with shiny purple satin ties in the middle, surrounded by purple on the sides. The bottom part, long heavy- beautiful and astonishing. Also purple but with subtle white waved lace at the very bottom. My hair, up in a loosen bun, curly hairs falling on both sides of my face. And two purple flowers attached to the left side of my hair. My face looked shiny, with almost no make up at all. Just a tad of soft pink lipstick and red-ish cheeks. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked down to take a look at my shoes. They were white heels. Soft socks -also white-peeked out the heels, each with a tiny black bow at the sides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t believe my eyes. I either had to be dreaming- I pinched myself and nothing happened- or I had most certainly gone completely mad. I took a deep breath, and decided to head to the next room. Why? Well, why not? I wasn\u2019t just going to stand there and wait for\u2026 anything really. One, two\u2026 baby steps. Slow and steady, one after the other. It felt like someone was watching me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I got to the next room, my gown almost fell from the astonishing view that stood in front of me. It was a big ball room, walls and roof made out of emerald stone, and shining on them were golden finishes. It almost seemed like golden was dripping from the roof and falling, splashing on the walls; and together with the emerald green, the colors danced in breathtaking harmony. The two chandeliers on the roof were big enough to cover half of the roof each, both crystal made, catching the sun rays and brightening the huge place. The floor cracked beneath me, making me glance at it. It was made out of wood. Like many other things, this one was also shining, as if someone had just cleaned it minutes ago. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

-There you are, darling.- Echoed a manly voice from afar, letting me know I wasn\u2019t alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Quickly, I lifted my head to see the person standing in front of me. It was a man in a black tuxedo with tail. Black hat, bow, white shirt well tucked in, white pantaloons and gloves and black shoes. His hairline drawn on the left side, and wavy hair falling on the right side. When I looked at his face, I could have sworn I had seen him somewhere before. His face was clean, only a thin layer of beard threatening to peak out of his skin. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

-You must make haste, we are to leave at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

-To\u2026- I began saying, but couldn\u2019t finish the sentence. I cleared my throat and tried again. -To where?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

-What could you possibly mean?- He asked, confused. After a small pause, he continued. -Why home, of course. We are heading home, dear.- He smiled at me, turned around and walked out the big saloon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Back home? What could he mean? <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t get enough time to figure, to find out, to ask. Because it came back- the ticking was back. But this time, I didn\u2019t look for a clock.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Somehow this time, the ticking seemed to be clicking. I didn\u2019t need to see it- to look for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But even if I had wanted to, my head started feeling heavy, <\/p>\n\n\n\n

spinning and spinning, <\/p>\n\n\n\n

and my legs felt ticklish- <\/p>\n\n\n\n

dizzy, dizzy stomach.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I closed my eyes, trying to keep the feeling away. Wanting for it to pass. But still in the darkness I twisted, turned, twisted,  turned.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

-Ma\u2019am?- Called a voice. -Ma\u2019am. Are you feeling alright?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened my eyes slowly, carefully. As I did, darkness started leaving my body and instead, bright shiny light began making its way through my unfocused pupils. I was standing in the middle of the same emerald green room I stood at seconds ago, only this time, people  -21st<\/sup> century people- were surrounding me. And I\u2026 well I was back. I was me again. Shorts, shirt, tennis shoes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

-All right I think.- I answered softly, making it sound like a whisper.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What just happened?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood still and sank inside my thoughts while seconds passed, until finally, my legs began involuntarily moving towards the sign that marked \u201cexit\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s when the same voice called me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

-Ma\u2019am?- Said the calm voice. -You forgot your purse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I turned around to face the stranger, there he was. My stomach dropped to my feet, pulse speeding even faster than the ticking ever was.\u00a0It was him. It was the man of- the man of the black suit. The man with the black hat, the white gloves. No doubt- no doubt of him. No doubt of those eyes, those factions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He had my purse in his hand, so I took a deep breath and slowly walked towards him, willing to have it back. Close enough, my fingers wrapped around the purse, but I had to stop for a second. Holding my breath, the fear that I might have moved too quickly- too roughly, began climbing up my spine. For I felt the man himself was built of the most fragile glass and that if I moved too fast he might have evaporated. But that didn\u2019t happen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, he smiled at last, and put the following words together. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

-May you have a safe return home<\/em>, Miss.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As to why I\u2019ve always been so drawn to old places, I can only imagine myself trying to put the words together in a way that the answer doesn\u2019t sound so crazy. I\u2019ve been asked maybe too many times. Why do you like old places so much? I feel as if, if they had experienced what I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":442,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[11,13,12],"class_list":["post-113","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fantasy","tag-fantasy","tag-fiction","tag-mistery"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/113","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=113"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/113\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":189,"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/113\/revisions\/189"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/442"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=113"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=113"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.writerspeak.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=113"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}