Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Like Titans pt. 1

The following is the first scene in a piece of fiction I'm currently working on. Comment, leave ideas, tell me what you think. I'm excited to work on this more. The story's called Like Titans, and it's about the last dream you will ever have.

“Wake up boy.”
The voice was new, a bit of a British accent maybe.
“Come along now, it’s time to get up. Rise, greet the world!”
Boy opened his eyes for the first time in what felt like months. Everything was a blur, slowly coming into focus. He was certain he was in a doctor’s office, though the room resembled more of an antique store. The walls were decorated with all sorts of clocks, each ticking to the same exact tune. Every second that passed in this room was echoed by a beating heart. He was certainly on an operating table of some sort, and he was certainly not wearing any clothes. He reached to cover himself, but his arms didn’t move, something was wrong. The blur was slowly fading away, the room was a warm red, easing him into a new reality. His head hurt, but his chest was open, spread agape by iron medical tools. The room was ticking.
“Welcome to the world of the waking! I’m the doctor with no name, and a clock for a face, it’s wonderful to have some company. Most of my patients don’t take as well to my methods as you did.”
The doctor was not lying, his name badge was blank, and in place of a human head was the face of a golden pocket watch. The doctor stepped over to Boy holding a pair of forceps in one hand, and clenching what looked to be the inner bits of a clock in the other.
“Your ticker stopped ticking, so I made you a new one. I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty.”
The doctor reached into Boys chest, his arms delving deeper into his open cavity than seemingly reasonable. Amazed at his own comfort with the situation, Boy managed enough breath to ask what seemed a perfectly reasonable question.
“Am I dead?”
“No, not yet. But the same could be said of all of us, no?”
The doctor continued to fumble around in Boys chest, meeting no resistance. It tickled. Boy could feel every movement, but found himself in no pain or horror. Just the mild discomfort of his innards being molested. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember the night before, but when he thought about it, a sharp pain spiked in his head. Learning quickly, and figuring he was not yet meant to remember, he decided to focus on the here and now. He stared at his own reflection in the doctor’s shiny head, and saw a face looking back at him he didn’t recognize. Short brown hair, full beard, big green eyes, soft looking skin. The stranger in gold could not have been more than 25 years in age. For a moment he felt terror, but quickly dismissed the apparent incongruence among the other oddities of the situation he found himself in. He tried not to worry as the doctor again spoke, after only minutes of ‘operation’.
“There we are, you should be in tick tock shape in no time.”
The doctor grabbed a near-by thread and needle, and began to suture Boy’s chest.
“Rest assured friend, your gratitude is the only payment I require, though if I do say so myself, this must be my finest work. My only concern is that your ticking backwards. Less of a tick tock, and more of a tock tick. If you find yourself aging backwards, or right dead, do give me a ring. I’m in the book, the only number without a name next to it.”
Boy sat up on the operating table, and instantaneously was dressed. He was wearing a nice black suit, not one he remembered owning, but he was finding it harder and harder to remember much of anything. Almost instinctively, Boy reached for his breast pocket and removed a folded piece of paper. He quickly unfolded it, four times over before discovering a scrawled note. “It’s a loner. -Ugly”
“Alright, alright, I’m sure you have your responsibilities, people to do, things to see, you do look awfully important all of a sudden. I suppose you must be off then.”
Like that the good doctor was gone, and Boy was alone in a grassy field. No knowledge of his past life, no idea where to go, and no way to get there. Just a black suit, a note from a friend, and a pocket watch heart.

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