Time waits for no man. It moves, constantly rushing, slipping, sliding away from us as we chase it. Stretching, squeezing, bending in an endless current. So fast, the way that everything can change in an instant and just when you think you’ve caught up? It switches direction, jumps, droops, falls as you helplessly try to sprint after it in a headlong rush. We only have ourselves to blame, I suppose (they say time is a concept after all) for trying to bridle it, squash it down and measure it as it just. Keeps. Ticking.
I used to think I was a rock. Sturdy, solid, unchanging. The one constant in the midst of a rushing river. Special, sorted, whole. But rocks can be broken, split apart and shattered. Scattered into a million pieces, forced to succumb to the flow like all the other debris from the lives we left behind. You see, the current won’t let you stand for long, no matter how high you rise, how sturdy you are, it will always tear you down. I discovered that the hard way. And for that, I paid the price.
So, context: my english teacher gave me a prompt to write the opening and ending paragraphs of a story inspired by this weird picture with bendy pocket watches and this is what I came up with!