The kitchen clock ticked away keeping beat to an ancestral song.
It grew fainter and then came back strong, like dramatic music in a suspense movie, the audience waiting for the crescendo.
The clock didn’t seem to care that it was midmorning and nothing of importance was happening. It beat on, striking down living moments with its second hand.
It seemed angry at times, as ticking grew louder, as if to remind those that life was indeed passing by. But then regretful of its own passion, it calmed and faded.
What an odd life to live, full of minutes, hours and days not used. Instead, watching passively as others march to the beat you set and hoping they do well in keeping time.
©2014 Codi Vallery-Mills