The Clock – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant travel through time
He is not a writer of cool Science Fiction
He isn’t Asimov or Clarke
He stumbles around in the dark
Hoping Al does not serve notice of eviction

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some towering tales in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s ticking time bomb.

Copyright Al Forbes

The Clock

Tick tock.
Tick tock.
He lies staring at the ceiling, knowing he will not sleep.
He wonders why, of all the night sounds, he hears only the clock.
There is traffic on the street far below, even at this hour.
There are footsteps on stairs and in corridors.
There are voices being raised.
There are doors being slammed shut.
But he hears only the clock.
That clock.
The one she bought for him.
Because, she said, she loved him.
She hoped it would make him feel better.
It is a beautiful clock.
She gave it to him the day he was at his lowest ebb.
The day before he pushed her out of the window.
Tick tock.
Tick tock.