Tick kcit

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.1

From twelve, to three, to six, to nine, the seconds hand slowly made its way around the face of the clock.2

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.3

Fluorescent lights bathed the room with a cold, pale intensity, illuminating nothing more than rows of cheap, flimsy desks and walls of white-washed brick.4

Tick. Tick. Tick.5

Beads of cold sweat broke out on my hands, rolling along the tiny crevices of my skin to collect on the desk.6

Tick. Tick.7

No windows. No posters. Not another soul in sight.8

Tick.9

Just me and my beating heart.10

Tick.11

Kcit.12

What was that sound?13

Kcit. Kcit.14

The clock. There seemed to be something odd about the way it moved.15

Kcit. Kcit. Kcit.16

I felt a crawling sensation on my hand. Small balls of moisture were jumping from the desk onto my fingers, slowly climbing in between the ridges of my knuckles, and soaking into my skin.17

Kcit. Kcit. Kcit. Kcit.18

The clock was moving backwards. No, that couldn’t be right. I watched with unbelieving eyes as the seconds hand moved from twelve, to nine, to six, to three, and then back to twelve.19

Kcit. Kcit. Kcit. Kcit.20

Was this what I got for running in the hall? Stuck in a room where time moved backwards? That seemed a little extreme.21

Kcitkcitkcitkcitkcit.22

My attention shifted to the clock again. It seemed to be moving faster.23

Ktktktktktktktktktktktktkt!24

This is strange, I thought. I wonder how far back in time I can go.25

The minutes and hours hands spun wildly.26

I wonder if I can ever get back.27

Suddenly, the room went pitch black. The lights had gone off.28

I decided not to stay and find out.29

Tripping over desks and slamming into walls, I frantically groped for the doorknob in the darkness. It was impossible to see how fast the clock was spinning, but I could hear that the “kcit kcit” had changed to a steady hiss. My hand fell on something round and cold. Without a second thought, I twisted and shoved.30

A sudden burst of light broke into the room and I spilled out into the hallway. Rather awkwardly, I found myself at the feet of a bespectacled teacher who looked as if she hadn’t gotten her paycheck yet.31

“Is lunch detention over?” I gasped.32

“Lunch detention?” she drawled lethargically. “It’s only seven thirty.” She glared at me from the top of her long, bony nose.33

Avoiding her stare, I hastily made my way to first period. I did not forget to walk.34