When The Clock's Refused to Tick... The Thorn Was Inserted

A teenager walks into the store. Flowers surround him on all sides, down the aisles, suspended midair, and littering the ground. Labels categorize each of them in different sections: The bouquets, the seeds,the single picks, and the potted. Flowers of all kinds.1

The guy knew where he was going. He walked straight ahead to the single picks. He had been in the store several occasions before. He was always just looking around. This time, he had a true intention, though. He was going to pay for one. His first pay. He knew exactly what he wanted and set out to find it. 2

A clerk stood over him, waiting for a decision. She was very patient realizing, that with all her customers, they wanted true perfection to suit there mood. She was very patient. Waiting... and waiting... as he looked from flower to flower wearing a very nervous face. He wanted this to be the best one ever. He wanted the best, because he was going to give it to the most important person in his life, the most beautiful person in his life, and the most loving person in his life. He looked for perfection to fill the perfection of his special person.3

He still turned his head, looking, and finally wore a relieved look on his face. "That one, Lauren," he said to the clerk. She smiled and went for it. She pulled it from a variety of other flowers under the card saying 'Uncut.'4

"Will that be all, Jack?" She replied. They obviously had spoken to each other on the many other occasions that Jack had visited the floral store. This was NOT the person that he was buying it for. He nodded and she walked, aisle through aisle, across every tile it took, until she had reached the counter from which she would bill him, originally being across the room from where she stood. Jack followed her loyally.5

She punched in a few buttons, Jack growing slightly impatient for such a short time of quick succession. A screen inches away from his face finally flashed a green light of text calling for $7.00. Jack, slowly reached his hand across his back and inserted it into his back pants pocket and drawing from it, a brown wallet, worn but still with a glossy stare. He brought it in front of him and unfolded it once, then a second time as if he hadn't done it ever before. He split it and pulled from it a ten dollar bill. He reached it across the counter, handing it to her. She grabbed it accordingly and smacked the cash register, when it opened. She pulled out change and counted it, while the flower lay across the counter.6

Jack lost focus for a moment and turned his head towards the clock, sitting above the window. What an awkward place for a clock to be? The light pouring in would surely counter any attempts to view it's ticking sentiments. Still although, he could see what it is he was looking for. It was noon, perfect. Seconds past the 12:00 marker, ticking, slowly. He knew his day would be a long day. He was to see her at 11:45, before midnight.7

"Here, you go, Jack!" Lauren cheerily said as she stuck forward the flower Jack had carefully chosen, bringing him back from his haze.8

"Thank you." Jack replied after receiving his item. He turned and then, in haste, exited the building. Lauren inside quickly went back to her business of standing around and popping bubblegum.9

When he stepped out, the sun had blinded him, although, he had previously been staring at it from inside the floral store. He walked on, one foot after the other. One foot over this crack of the sidewalk, and the other foot over that crack of the sidewalk. He was taking large steps, hoping that time would hasten only faster than what the clock showed of a short life. He wanted to see her so badly. He strutted. Quickly, oh so quickly, had he tried pacing.10

He passed a park, with trees and children and puppies and aged dogs and benches... and couples, holding hands, enjoying the day. That wasn't his view. He would be enjoying the cold air of night, by the moon, alone, and without another breathing soul in sight (excluding the crickets and bugs) except his special person.11

He began reading the road signs. Joseph at Lincoln, Gabriel at Justice, and his favoritely named street, Jack at Erinn (which was the same name as his special person). Just one block over, and he was home. So he paced himself being not too far off.12

He now was at his street, turning left and moving to the road because the sidewalk had ended. A couple houses down, a bland mixture of brick and apathy which was only vacant of the bird and it's stupid songs, he finally reached his house and walked across the driveway, split in many places, and showing signs of an empty house.13

By all means, it wasn't. Jack walked in and saw his father sprawled across the LazyBoy chair, stocky and disgusting from his hairy armpits to his needly change of his damp wifebeater. Jack called out, "Did we get the car reposessed again?" Where his reply came in a snore. Jack just mumbled out, "Whatever..."14

He walked down a hallway of that house and opened a door. The door was his entryway to his room. Hyacinth walls and cluttered paper scattered across the floor were the two main things that really got your attention. Beautiful hyacinth walls. Apparent failures of poems crumpled up into an unorganized placement. From the living room he could hear his dad suddenly yelling out:15

"Clean your room!"16

Jack thought to himself, "Yeah, right." Then he yelled out, "Scrub your armpits!" then thinking to himself, "What a hypocrite he is..."17

He set the flower upon his dresser where it just sat there with an evil intention to stare at him. He then moved to his bed and grabbed a journal to where he began writing a poem about the neverending day and the wish for haste. He then thought to himself, "How cliché." He crumpled it up and threw it to the floor to be added to the splurge of forgotten text.18

He quit sitting up in his bed and instead lay. His arms under the pillow, supporting his head, ever so slowly losing pressure as all thought ran away. His eyelids grew heavy and his eyelashes began merging as the view of his room began to blur and crisscross. He fell asleep.19

The day became night...20

He awoke hours later with an empty feeling in his stomach. Either because of hunger, or the fact that he woke up at 11:25; twenty minutes before she and he were supposed to meet. He knew this after staring at his clock with a set of glowing red numbers that tended to blend in with the hyacinth walls. He had mixed feelings for the clock... This one didn't tick, which he enjoyed, but it also told him how stupid he was by way of time.21

Jack threw himself off the bed and demanded light as he threw his hand to the switch. He looked around the room in a frenzy seeking for answers. What should he do? What should he do?22

He threw open the door and ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. His hair was a mess. He stuck his head under the faucet and tried to get as much of his hair wet. He pulled his head up and the water started pouring all over his shirt and neck. He reached for the towel that hung off of the wall. He pushed and pulled and scrubbed at his dripping head until it would stop dripping. His hair still wasn't appealing, but it would have to do, he didn't have time for combing it out.23

He threw the towel to the floor and ran out of the room. He went straight for the door out of the house, startling his dad, making him question:24

"What are you doing?" but Jack just ignored him. He went out the door and went all the way to the intersection before screaming out:25

"DAMMIT!!!"26

He ran back to his house and into his room, calling for a few confused faces from his dad. He grabbed the flower off of his dresser, 11:37 o' clock. He grabbed the flower too hastily though... It had thorns. It pierced his skin. Jack didn't care... He did NOT care at all about it, much less notice it.27

He ran out of his room and left at least a single dropping reminder of blood on the floor where his dad asked again, "What's going on?"28

Jack just said as he opened the door, "Don't forget to scrub your armpits!" And Jack was out of the house. His dad raised his arm and... sniffed.29

Jack was down the street again and started running in the opposite direction of the floral store. He wasn't headed for the park that he saw earlier. After about six minutes he came upon a grassy area that went up hill where at the top was a single tree, his destination. The flower still cut deep into his grasp and leaked crimson warmth across his fingers. He started running up the hill, a great tribute to the strength in his legs.30

Finally after about a full minute, he came upon the tree. Under it's leaves, a beautiful brunette sat staring off into the landscape past the hill. He saw her beautiful hair covering her back. In front of them, the full moon was shining, a large orb of wonder, giving off the light that they were searching for. Beneath it was a small creek running inbetween a couple more scattered trees. He walked closer to her.31

"Isn't it beautiful." Erinn said, startling Jack with her amazing sense. She sat there, leaning on her arms that spread behind her back. Beautifully.32

"Yeah... you're early..." He said timidly.33

"You're not." She replied matter-of-factly.34

"Well... I wasn't late," He made and excuse out of.35

"But you weren't early."36

"So, what? I'm here now. Can we just enjoy it?" He said painfully, finally fully taking in the thorns.37

"What's that in your hand," She asked.38

"Something... for you," He spread out his arm, "Sorry about that."39

She took it and held it loosely. It was a rose. Three leaves spread off of it, and it was fully bloomed. It had every thorn still remaining. It was the most beautiful plant ever grown. The red of it was deep. Very deep. The blood lining it was very beautiful too. A dark, eerie, beautiful, spectacular, blood. The bloody rose.40

"You... You bled all over it." Erinn said slowly and awely, "It's... It's beautiful..." Jack's face showed a particularly large amount of surprise. She liked the blood all over it? She liked it?41

"I... I didn't mean to. It just... happened..." He said with guilt. She looked up at him with a small hint of betrayal... The betrayal quickly morphed into pain. Jack was confused. She still sat there, staring at him. A crimson began running inbetween her fingers. She squeezed on the rose, no longer holding it loosely. She made herself bleed.42

"This is the pain of love." She said, "We share this pain now. My blood is mingling with your blood." Jack's face agreed, but filled with a large portion of apathy. Erinn stood up, with him. She went in closer and grabbed his bleeding palm. She squeezed their palms together, "Let mine enter through you."43

She let go of his palm. Her hands fell to his hips and slowly worked up, staining his shirt, then working up to his shoulders, then his neck. Erinn let her palms bleed on him. She spread her fingers across his neck, and pulled. She pulled him lower, until they were face, to face. Her face was soft, and pale. He was unsure about what was about to happen. She pulled even closer... Until their lips embraced. She pulled away for a moment and brought her right hand to his mouth and smeared blood on his lips. Their lips embraced again.44

She was just like the rose. Beautiful. Dangerous. Hidden with meaning. They spent the whole night bleeding, holding one another close. She looked at a bit of blood in the grass.45

"We're gonna die tonight." Erinn said. She pointed to the blood. It was clotting. They didn't have the same blood type.46

"Then let the rose pierce our necks." Jack replied. He grabbed it and placed it between his lips. They pierced there too. He brought it to her neck and there it was pierced. "I will love you forever... even after death, we will not part." He said47

"Yes... Never." She gasped stealing the rose and with her last will of strength strangled him with the rose. Not a difficulty since it pierced his skin.48

"I love you." He cried.49

"I love you too." She screamed.50

The strength left their bodies. The one thing they didn't forget to do was hold eachother. Once again, the world, the trees, the moon. It all blurred. It all went together into a big meaning. Even after death, they did not part. Their eyelashes cut into the night and their last sight was the complete darkness of their eyelids.51

All the clocks around their area read 12:45...It was past midnight. The clocks all stopped ticking... the day hastened... but then had to quickly stop. Two lives were lost to their love. But... their love was worth dying for...52