My Time

A Story by Linds

Just a short bit on the concept of time. The different types of time that exist.

Time is a very strange thing. Sometimes it feels as though the world is spinning out of control and time is flying past us. Wasted time. In other moments it feels like were all moving in slow motion waiting for time to start back up again. Frozen time. Then there are the times we cannot remember, those fleeting moments that didn’t seem important and no longer come to mind. Lost time. What is most terrifying about the concept of time is its vastness, though. It seemingly can go on forever, but as we all know for us human beings it must find an end. Out of Time.

Never before had I contemplated time so deeply. It wasn’t until a catastrophic event occurred that I had begun pondering the aloofness of time. All in a single moment time sped up, it slowed down, it was forgotten, and it was gone. I couldn’t possibly tell you exactly how long this event took place because for me, in that moment time was out of control. It was as though my own personal clock, the time meant solely for me, cracked in two.

It seems so strange now how everything was running so smoothly in one moment and in the next, in an instant, it was all changed forever. Suddenly everyone was running frantically, looking for cover, for safety. They flew past me in blurs as I whipped my head from side to side. Where do I go? What do I do? I can’t just stand here. Why aren’t my legs moving? My heart is going to explode.

I stood instead of running. I searched for answers instead of acting. I wasted time.

My clock ticked out of control until my head tuned one last time. The hands slowed, the ticking stopped. We stood still, just him and I. Everyone else was gone, they’d used their time wisely. Now it was just me, him, and a gun. A gun pointed in my direction. He did not move and I dared not to either. Time had stopped for us and we starred on in each other like immobile statues.

I held my breath, eyes wide in deafening silence. Time stopped dead, freezing us.

Fate favored the man with the weapon for it was his time that began again before mine. He lifted his arm just slightly, the barrel aimed now at my head. His finger slowly made its way for the trigger. As the digit moved my mind moved with it hopelessly thinking of everything that had ever happened in the short span of my life. When was the last time I saw them? When was the last time I told them I loved them? Was I happy this morning? What did I do yesterday? When was the last time we kissed? What did I do with my time?

I can’t remember. I can’t remember these things, these moments. They’re lost in me.

BANG