Flash Fiction-Time

Time

 

They were running out of time.

 

He rushed along the train platform towards the exit gate. He pushed past people, spouting quick ‘sorry!’s and ‘pardon!’s without so much as a quick glance.

 

They were running out of time. He checked the pocket watch.

 

30 minutes.

 

He started running even faster. Only 30 minutes. Only 30 minutes to save the world.

 

As he darted out of the train station doors and waved down a cab, he thought of all the things one could do in 30 minutes. One could make some custard. One could write a poem. One could get a job. One could propose to their true love. One could save a life.

 

There were so many things one could do in 30 minutes, but as he sat on the edge of his seat and urged the driver to drive as fast as he could, he knew right now if he wasn’t there in time, no one might be able to do any of those things.

 

Time.

 

He checked the pocket watch again. Its silver numbers and hands gestured urgently to him. 25 minutes.

 

He pulled a $100 bill out of his pocket. “I’ll pay you an extra 100 if you can get me there in five!”

 

The driver widened his eyes and floored the gas pedal. That cab driver probably broke several traffic laws, all for an extra one hundred bucks. The man must have been desparate.

 

He was desparate too, though for something considerably more important that money.

 

The cab had barely stopped before he tossed the bill on the dash, opened the door, and nearly leapt out of the cab in one fluid motion. As the cab drove away, he ran up to the door of the ran down building and pulled repeatedly and frantically on the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Thinking quickly, he ran around to the back alley. He climbed some crates stacked up near an open window and climbed in. Inside the dimly lit hallway, he checked the pocket watch. As he opened it’s silver shell, the watch almost seemed to screamed at him ‘20 minutes!’

 

He knew there wasn’t any time to lose. He ran up the stairs, which spiraled around and around, like hands on a clock. As he reached the top landing, he sprinted down the hall, checked the handle of the apartment door, before kicking it down.

He searched the dingy apartment desperately. Where is it, he thought, where is it!

 

A low hum began to fill the air.

 

5 minutes.

 

He was tossing open cabinets, kicking up rugs, ripping open drawers. The hum was rising in pitch.

 

Around the edges of his vision, dark yet iridescent, sparkling cracks appeared and slowly but surely started to widen.

 

He checked under the bed, eyes wide.

 

There it was. He wondered how something so small and almost innocuous looking could cause so much trouble.

 

As he reached, the hum became and deafening and the holes started to quickly consume everything.

 

He pulled it out and fumbled desperately to-

*

 

Time.

 

They were running out of time.

 

He rushed along the train platform towards the exit gate. He pushed past people, spouting quick ‘sorry!’s and ‘pardon!’s without so much as a quick glance.

 

They were running out of time. He checked the pocket watch.

 

30 minutes.

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