A thick plume of black smoke and ash hung in the air in a heavy haze, almost completely obscuring the lurid red glow of the waning sun. Below, a cloud of grey plaster dust twisted and writhed amid the sea of debris as intermittent eddies of wind gusted by.
Everything was still.
All that could be heard was the distant wail of an ambulance siren, which rent the bitter evening air like a butcher’s knife through a carcass. It would’ve been hard to believe that only minutes ago the place had been alive with crowds and commotion and excitement; for now it stood empty. It seemed that time itself had stopped: that every clock, timepiece, wristwatch in the world had ceased to tick.
* * *
I can feel it throbbing around my wrist. Each tick drags me one second further in the countdown, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, reverse it, or slow it down. A bead of sweat trickles down my temple. Why hasn’t it arrived yet?
My eyes flit back and forth along the conveyor, scouring the endless succession of case after case for the small, black briefcase – but it doesn’t appear. I clench my fists, and I can feel my palms moistening. The seconds are dwindling away, and I can prevent them no more than the tumultuous thud of my heartbeat. I need that case. Right now, I don’t have the luxury of time.
There are only five minutes left.
“Please remove all sharp items, liquids, and flammable or explosive substances before entering security” blares a nasal, robotic voice from a speaker somewhere in the room. I shudder. What if security has found it? But they can’t have – we disguised it so well back in Peshawar.
Has there been a delay? The dread creeps through me like an icy chill. But there’s nothing I can do; nothing but wait and listen to the...
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...ll child screams to her parents. An explosive argument is occurring between a passenger and an assistant over at the check-in desk. The seconds keep ticking. I bite my cheek some more, and my mouth fills with blood.
The pulse in my wrist quickens, and I can feel it throbbing against my wristwatch in time with the incessant ticking.
Obscure tannoy announcements
I can still hear my watch tick, tick, ticking. Every second pulls me closer to the end and I know I can avoid it no more than the tumultuous thud of my heartbeat.
I can feel my nerves tingling like they’re being stroked with the blade of a sharpened knife.
The ticks seem to be getting louder and faster; echoing the tumultuous/intense thudding of my heart against my ribcage.
I’m frozen by sudden panic and my mind is offering me only one thought: they’ve found it, they’ve caught me. It’s a customs officer.
The next fifteen seconds seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. When I
Yesterday morning, I woke around my standard time of 7 AM by light entering the window; this light interacting with the Suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN) and reinforcing when sleep has ended. Thus, the always active, but often disrupted circadian rhythm began its 24 - 25 hour schedule, beginning with an awake state of consciousness. Through waking, my REM cycle was broken and the manifest content dreamed was obscure and foggy, but forgotten an almost groggy step out of bed. Thereto, I prepared for my day ahead, left the house to attend a networking event for music in games. Throughout my day energy levels stayed at a consistent level, rising and falling almost as a measured sine wave. The largest dip in energy came in the area of 2:30 where I felt more tired than the rise and falls
...an Patter Of Blood Pressure.” Chronobiology International: The Journal Of Biological & Medical Rhythm Research 29.6 (2012): 747-756. Academic Search Premier. Web. 19 Feb. 2014.
The voices in my head become a swelling crescendo. I forcefully grab my head in between my hands as the words echo through my skull. Pain pulsates with every word. I squeeze my temples hard with my palms but the pain is unbearable. Clawing at my face, a scream rips through me; sapping every last drop of energy in my body. Like a rag doll, I collapse onto the cold concrete floor as a growing darkness overcomes me.
I run my fingers over sandpaper, smell a skunk, feel a sharp pain in my finger,
happen when you are lefted alone and isolated. I use a screen from 1:43:44 to 1:53:08 to prove
The Real Time moves to the next event quickly if it is not noticed in time. If one does not take the time to notice the Real Time flowing past them, and to try to understand its significance, then he/she will be left behind it, none-the-wiser. In Ode on a Grecian Urn, Keats states “heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter .” The elements are that tangible and noticeable
Footsteps echo like an eerie greeting outside the door. They shuffle closer, so close to discovering me, only a door separates me from death. The steps slow as they come nearer to my place. The sound of a handle slowly twisting fills my ears like thunder. I barely stop the scream of terror from escaping my quivering lips. This was it. Death stares me in the eye and I cry like the tears will save me.
varies from either high to low the blood vessels in the skin is dilating. When the
It was a dark, cold, cloudy day. The clouds covered the sky like a big black sheet, nothing to be seen except darkness that seemed to go on forever. This was the third day in a row that there had been complete darkness, there was no getting rid of it. This was because of ‘the meteorite.’
My heart was pounding as I boarded my flight leaving the Bangkok International Airport. A flight attendant in a grey dress with a red bow draped over her shoulder announced; “Welcome aboard flight AA350 to the United States.” My journey began that day.
“Flight 208 to Los Angeles is now boarding. Section N you may now take your seats”. You looked down at your carry-on bag to make sure you have everything packed up, even though you took nothing out, and headed toward the flight attendant and handed her your ticket. As your walking through the tunnel, the sound of the planes jets put just enough pressure on your body, causing your pulse to increase. “Why are you nervous, you been on planes before”, you ask yourself. You shake your head and start to inhale and before you could finish getting your lungs to the maximum capacity they could hold, a man wearing a white shirt twice his size and jeans that also seemed
The four pieces of apparatus that I have spent countless hours training on and conquering suddenly look daunting. I am shaking like a leaf.
I feel the wood underneath me, I feel the slightness of my bone and the silk of my garment. It almost seems as if I have grown thinner in the little time since Elizabeth's departing.