The Absurd tick

The clock beside Jack's hand ticked in a steady rhythm, matching his breaths as he focused on pinching the minute hand in between the brass tweezers and slid into place without looking, into another of the same model.

TICK.

It started to move and with some light adjustments at its back, it picked a steady rhythm.

"Huh... I'm tired."

Satisfied with his work, Jack stretched his arms. A yawn came out instinctively. Suddenly he turned around.

The sound of screwing, mixed with hoarse murmurs didn't go away yet.

"Carson!"

Jack tapped his bench, yelling.

"I'm busy here. What?" Carson looked at him, his voice hoarse and less than a whisper. His eyes struggled to keep up, at Jack's direction.

Jack smiled dryly, knowing the after affects of working too long in the dark.

"What should I about this?"

Jack said, picking up a palm-sized brass clock, gripping it by a edge.

TICK. TICK. TICK.

The clock never stopped, regardless of how it was handled.

"Oh.. how long has it been?"

Carson stepped closer to the clock, forcing his eyes to look at its hands. Jack's smile wore off, his eyes shifted towards the clock.

"Six years maybe? I don't know. But I'm not sure."

The expression on his face mirrored a lot like someone who'd given up and become aimless in life.

"When is it that you are sure if something? Never."

Carson grumbled, pulling the clock from Jack's grip and examined it as if it was new.

"The same as ever. Why'd you keep it, Jack?"

"Because it's antique?"

Carson stared at him, wide-eyed. His lips parted to speak but Carson forced it close.

"Right... Keep it, then."

He flipped the clock back to Jack's grasp. But Jack wasn't going to just let go.

"And then what? It'll spend another six years inside the trash?"

The trash near Jack's chair was small, almost palm-sized.

"That's where it belongs to, afterall."

Carson shrugged off, "How can you expect me to fix something so unclocky?" He pointed at the clock, at its hands. Jack also knew it— and that was precisely why it was antique.

"Its hand moved in reverse, despite echoing the same tick." Carson stated eyes locking at Jack's. But neither of them did anything, except to just see time moving backwards.

"Just throw it somewhere else, if you don't want it inside the trash. Definitely away from me, who knows— someday I might get a heart attack looking at this?"

And just like that, with his hands in the pocket, Carson walked off. The door opened and closed without a pause. His words lingered in Jack's mind.

"Heart attack.."

The air became warmer for a bit, until again it was thin and cold.

"You're unstoppable, aren't you?"

Jack said, looking at the clock in hand. The clock was the one who filled in the soundless atmosphere with its gentle and constant ticks.

"Unclocky... It suits you." Jack whispered, rising from his chair.

"Guess, I'll just.. go home."

With that, he put the clock inside his coat pocket and tugged it on his back.

"Iris's waiting. I need to check her draft too."

He murmured, flicking the keys on his finger.

THUD.

Once again the door opened and closed without a pause, making the air warm and then immediately cold again.

—

Jack lived inside a small cube, or a cuboid perhaps.

"Apartment 203." His keys shone from the corridor light.

"Welcome back!"

A soon as Jack opened the door, a black haired woman threw herself on his chest.

She patted him and they smiled at each other for a bit.

"It's cold outside, Iris."

Jack pushed her inside, closing the door behind them.

TICK.

"Haven't you seen the document I sent you through mail?"

Iris's muffle's echoed through the space from the door.

"..uh? Have I? I don't think so."

"Ehhh? Why?! I made it specifically for you!"

"I was busy then, but you can show it to me.."

"Hmm, okay!"

Iris's footsteps shook the wooden floor.

A while later she came back with a file.

"Here!" Excited for Jack to read her manuscript, she pressed it against his chest.

Jack was steps away from falling back.

"Iris, calm down. I'm not going anywhere."

Iris giggled, "You say but the next day you just run off at his place."

Jack ignored her, opening the file and flipping through the pages. "I'm reading.." he said and gradually the giggling faded.

One by one the pages flipped, Jack concentrated on the writing. The way she placed her paragraphs and much more.

"Huh."

The last page came a second later. Jack glanced up, Iris was expecting something.

"This's good. Like the way you interjected the working of the curse in the character backstory, was.. commendable."

"Just... That?"

Iris looked hurt, she got up and walked, pulling her Manuscript from his hand. "What about the prologue? Doesn't it hook you?"

Iris's expectant smile only made him more nervous.

"Not even in the least." His smile hardened, "Iris, simply a history lesson of the 'Cursed Manuscript' was and how it came to be, isn't going to hook your readers up." He spoke solemnly.

"I get it." Iris smiled again, and hugged him.

"Thanks for being honest. As always."

Then she got up, a pen ready in her hand.

"Let me help you."

Jack also got up, following her into her bedroom. "We're going to work on the prologue today."

"Really? I thought you were gonna.."

Jack locked the door behind them, preventing any more of their talk from slipping out.

The room temperature suddenly started to drop. Jack and Iris seemed engrossed in themselves but as the drop contnued, all the things around them started to go pale.

The air became thin, like in a high altitude.

"Iris.."

Jack whispered not out of affection but out of genuine curiosity.

Where was Iris?

He couldn't find her. His vision also became unreliable.

"Iris, come back... The prologue we need to.."

Jack tried to call her, but a thick fog engulfed his vision.

"Ah—"

Somewhere below, his ankle hit something soft— something squishy. But he couldn't discern what it was.

"Iris... Iris Ukrena!"

A high pitched squeal rose. But the fog continued to spread, eventually rendering his vision nothing but silver.

"Haah...haah..."

Jack's body turned from light yellow to pale white, in matter of seconds. He lost the feeling of touch much later than the sense of hearing.

"The prologue... Iris—"

Jack's eyes widened, in the last moment he'd seen something heart-stopping.

"This's where you..."

Iris was lying on the desk, she never got up.

Jack slowly crept towards her, touching her cheeks.

It was frosty cold.

"How's the room temperature—"

Jack's eyes stalled. He saw something move. In front.

"Jack..."

It was Iris's lips. Her eyes sent tears down her flattened cheeks. She looked at him, her warm gaze crept down to Jack's.

"Iris... What—"

"Jack.."

The same voice reverbed in his ear. Iris'd gone numb. Despite that her fingers tugged at Jack's chin, they wrapped over each other.

Iris...what are you—

At that moment, Jack bacillus, finally lost the ability to think. His eyes stuck, at Iris's, who'd long since departed. Her frozen red lips stared at him for a long time, expectantly.

A tear fell down Jack's eye, as a residue of his unsatisfied emotions.

Jack bacillus, from then on, was never heard again.