Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Stand-still Time ❯ Stand-still Time ( One-Shot )

[ A - All Readers ]

The Westclox clock resting on top of my television is frozen at 5:06 and 48.5 seconds, sitting next to a butterfly ornament with a heart-shaped jewel hanging from the bottom of its smooth stomach. The alarm is set for exactly one o'clock, the knob for the bell pulled carefully to keep it from going off. Off to my right, a silver and white Felix clock hangs on the wall, the eyes shooting a dead gaze to where I sit at my desk, the tail perfectly straight and centered in a vertical line that carelessly points at the wooden floors with their remnants of red rug still attached. Felix has calmly told me that it's 6:00 for about fourteen weeks, and two days.

My laptop's glowing screen goes unnoticed as I see a little blue light flashing repeatedly at the bottom right corner of the screen, the time reading 1:26 PM. Exactly twelve reminders are on the bar at the bottom, emotionlessly telling me their is an update available. Time zones are changing; shall we update your time?

Next to the frozen unchanged time is the temperature outside my windows, but how am I to know if that number is correct?

A circular, gold horoscope clock stays perfectly content on the East wall of my room, going against all the others to tell me it's 2:14 AM. If that were the case, I would be able to flip on the television and watch my late night programs to keep me entertained until the sun comes up. The windows mock that particular clock by gracing each corner, each wall with golden light flitting in through the blinds.

The annoying Mickey Mouse wrist watch on my desk shows Mickey himself pointing one hand at four, and the other at six. Mickey wants me to believe that it's 4:25, 51 seconds.

Across from Felix, a wooden bookshelf rests along one wall, coming short when the door appears. The edge of the bookshelf is chipped and scarred from continual exposure to the force of the door, but that is not the direction my attention has focused on. Most of the shelves are completely empty except for the ones directly in the middle. There's Webster's Dictionary, harshly bright on top of the black dreams and dreaming book that has offered me little comfort. My copy of Great Expectations is laying on its side against the wall of the shelf, next to a stack of blank tapes and a torn and ruined issue of the Bible. On the Bible's ripped cover, is exactly twenty-four multi-colored post-it notes, labeling different things in my room.

The blue post-it note fourteen down, inbetween the pink and yellow one, has a scribbled word on it.

Mirror.

The sixteenth says, "April."

The twentieth: "Green."

There's four unopened Mozart CDs laying in a stack directly under the foot of my bed. One of them 1756-1791. A frozen time in his life, burned onto a CD that has never been opened. Never been touched but to shove it underneath the cover of blankets and darkness.

My VCR flashes 12:00 continually, countering what my other clocks say.

A calender is next to the door, two years off and stuck in November.

A concert ticket four years off, never used.

5:06...

6:00...

1:26...

2:14...

4:25...

12:00...

Time is frozen in my world, in my head. In my mind. Never moving in the corners of my room.

Time is frozen in my world, and I've allowed myself to fall into that pattern.

I've allowed myself to get lost.

In my room, I don't have to believe anything.