Time

Not really sure what to put as for genre for this one, so I just choose short story.

I’m sitting in my tiny window nook, the hard emerald green cushion causes me to fidget.

 

I gawk out the window pane.

 

          The people scamper by, oblivious of the moving hand of its white face going round and round.

 

                   It cannot be conquered. It only keeps going in the same rotation, the unchanged pattern day after day.

 

They see no evil, no demon from Hell without eyes when they stare at its menacing face.

 

                             I do.

 

          I know of the power this creature holds, and what it can do.

 

      It mock us innocent people through out our hectic lives, counting down the hours, minutes, seconds until we are forced to repeat our dreaded days. It goes on until it halt it merciless hands and ends us all.

 

Time is an evil being.

 

          Time holds all the cards and we have no defense when time decides to finally comes to a stop. 

Author's Note

Positive and negative feedback are welcome.