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tinydropletsTick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
The room I had been ushered into upon arrival had three white washed walls and a large glass window on the fourth. You couldn’t see to the other side, but it didn’t take a genius to know that there were people on the other side watching me. In the enclosed space I had been seated inside smelled of peroxide and vomit mixed in a blend that stung my nose and made my eyes water. It was also unbearably cold. Since my jacket had been taken away from me upon entry, I sat there with my arms wrapped around my torso in an “I Love New York” tank top, jeans, and a pair of sandals. If I had known that I would be in such a cold room, I would have worn a turtle neck and tennis shoes. My attention once again was captivated by the whiteness of the walls.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
It was only after a few minutes that it occurred to me as my eyes drifted from wall to wall that upon one of the very walls I had been searching had a clock. It was a clock reminiscent of the one that had hung up above the telephone in the kitchen at the house I grew up in. It was my mothers favorite. A large Felix the Cat looking clock that had wide eyes that looked from side to side, a gaping red painted mouth upturned into a sadistic grin, and a tail that swung back and forth in precise measurements. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth the tail continued to swing. Back and forth in a timed measured swings that kept the tail and eyes going opposite.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
The air seemed to thicken as the cold wrapped around my body in a suit of coldness, and my hairs stood on end as my arms landed on the sterilized top of the steel table. It was so cold, too cold in that room. Was that my breath? The only thing that drew my attention was finally when a woman and man came into the room. The woman was a plump lady that had blond hair framing her face, and her lips were contorted into a overly faked smile. She wore a black skirt, a white button up shirt, and a pair of matching pumps. Her lips were a shade of red that hurt me eyes to look at so immediately I looked away.
Settling down into the seat in front of me, she smiled fully that showed off her shocking white teeth. They were white, but not as white as the walls surrounding us. Her partner was a man with shades covering his eyes, brown spiked hair and a black suit that seemed to match hers. Did they coordinate like this to make people feel out of place?
With that same sickeningly polite grin, the lady clasped her hands and leaned forward.
“Let’s begin, shall we?”
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
As she began to talk, I tried to listen. I really did, but something else had my attention. I couldn’t keep my eyes of that cat hanging on the wall. As it smiled, and continued to tick away the seconds, I watched it. Was there a trick to being that happy when you were a cat nailed on a wall? If the clock maker had been looking for authentic cat behavior and looks, why hadn’t he just nailed a cat to the wall? It would have been a lot more real than the thing that was made of a chunk of plastic. It was probably because the blood would have dribbled all down the wall and made a mess. Congealed blood on the tiles of the floor, and blood flakes in cat printed paw patterns on the wall. The thought was so absurd that I had to crack a small smile. The woman stopped talking as she raised a perfectly shaped brow and her smile wavered a bit.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” I answered. “Please continue.”
Mommy is busy
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
Mommy was always busy.
Focusing my eyes on the woman in front of me, I returned to her a polite smile. I can hardly remember the words pouring out of my mouth, but I knew I was saying something. Whatever it was seemed to make that smile waver even more on her face. The longer I continued, the more and more her demeanor changed. Those hands gripped slightly tighter, those long blood painted nails cut into the soft skin of the backs of her hands, and her polite smile began to turn down at the edges. But, she was valiantly trying to keep it together, I could tell. Looking back at the clock, it continued to wave it’s tail, and continued to smile showing off those nice white fangs. Cats were predators after all, they used their claws and teeth to tare into mice.
Didn’t that make them murderers? Cats hunting mice, and people hunting people. What was the real difference? One was intelligent, and the other wasn’t.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
What Mommy did was just like a cat going after a mouse. Nothing’s wrong with it. She just had to get rid of the pests like a cat does.
Mommy was a good hunter.
I stopped talking. Or maybe I stopped talking because the woman who had seemed in control, now seemed to lose her edge. The fake smile had been replaced with a uneasy one. Her hands had broken apart and on the backs of her hand were rows of half moons one of them even had blood seeping out of the skin. I reached forward and she flinched pulling back. My hand stayed in the air as she turned away. I also realized that the smell that had been so large before was just a memory, even my eyes seemed to feel sharper. Just as quickly as they had come, they were gone. I was alone again.
I was alone as I had been for years.
I looked at the clock once more as it looked back at me and then away. Back and forth, back and forth, and back and forth. Just like the one in my mother’s kitchen. Back and forth, back and forth, back, forth, back and forth. Smiling, smiling, always smiling. But animals didn’t smile when hung on walls like that. Even if the clock maker had to go with the image of a cat, why couldn’t it have been screaming? It’s mouth was yowling, but it was gaping and smiling. Animals didn’t smile when you stretched their bodies out and crucified them onto the wall. No, they tended to scream.
Their screams were almost like human screams.
Wait for Mommy right here. I promise I’ll be back soon, I’m going hunting. Be a good little girl.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
What was taking those two so long to come back? I shifted uncomfortably in my chair as I finally decided to pace. That only lasted a couple of minutes until I got bored. Then my eyes went back to the white walls. The color white meant purity didn’t it? People dwelled within those walls, so why not do something that was inside people? Red was inside people, and I could see the walls dripping in red. Slowly it moved, dripping, dribbling and dropping as gravity took it’s course down the tall walls around me. It finally ran to the floors pooling into deep puddles of red. But that was definitely better than white.
Hadn’t mommy once painted our walls like this? But after that she had never come back. Even though I waited. Waited staring at the clock on the wall to pass the time. Slowly an anger bubbled up as I realized that the walls were white, and that the clock was ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking, ticking. I realized that it smiled, and that I didn’t like that. It smiled as I sat there in the kitchen waiting for mommy to return.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
Always ticking, never tocking, it continued to smile as I waited. It smiled as if it knew where my mommy was, it smiled as if it was responsible for her not coming home. As the clock continued to tick, I felt my hands clench and my jaw do the same. My fingers gripped so hard into fist that it made my palms itch and tingle. Yes. The clock was responsible for mommy never coming home. It was responsible for the white walls, and it was responsible for putting me in that cold room with strangers.
Slowly I let myself approach the clock. One step at a time. Slowly so it wouldn’t move away.
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick
It was just like the prey that mommy hung on the walls. It was just like the cat she had found on my wall. Then the dog, then the rabbit. There had been several animals, and each time mother had smiled. She had smiled and said the same thing.
That’s mommy’s little girl...
Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick.
Standing on the floor I couldn’t reach it. I couldn’t reach it. I couldn’t reach it. No, I couldn’t reach it. No matter what I did. I clawed at the wall until there were dents, and slowly I realized that I was the one painting the wall. Over and over again I scratched, reaching for the clock. Reaching up towards it with red tipped fingers. Reaching out to smash it to bits. I found myself in the same situation again. Reaching, red tipped fingers, up towards the clock that I would never reach.
It’s all your fault.
Tick, Tick, Tick, CRASH!
Silence. Sweet sweet silence. Finally I had punished the cat. The cat had taken mommy away, and now I could go look for her. I would follow my mommy until I could free her from the cats grasp.
Wait for me mommy.
I’m coming.
[Writing Assignment: Write about a noise or silence that won't go away]
