• Tick tock.
    ‘It’ has a name, but is not alive.
    ‘It’ has been since the beginning, but it shall not be the end.
    ‘It’ can not be seen nor felt, but shall be heard as long as there is a heartbeat and one’s will.
    Tick Tock
    The hand swings back and forth, back and forth, but for whom does it help?
    ‘Its’ master has long been gone yet ‘it’ keeps on singing and lives..
    ‘It’s’ face remains blank yet it tells more than anyone could express.
    Tick Tock Eleven o’clock

    The moonlight flooded the room a bright silver and created shadows that seem to dance across the room like they were alive. The worn out rug was now a pale red and the violet curtains swayed in the slight breeze. The tall, glass windows made the room seem like a castle, but it felt like a glass cage. It felt so open yet the air felt like lead.

    A little girl sat motionless in her chair as her Victorian dress flowed over the rim of the chair like a black waterfall. Her face was flawless like a doll’s; snowy white skin and pale pink lips that were fruitful- her eyes were a blank purple as she sat there. Her silky brown hair brushed her shoulders and was tinted a slight silver from the moon’s reflection. She never moved from where she sat and if she did she would brake like a doll; a fragile existence that gave no purpose.

    She could no longer dance and her purpose of existence was of no more use.

    The old English clock pinged to acknowledge that it was now eleven thirty and still the girl did not move. At her feet laid a small glass bottle that was now empty of its contexts. The bottle reflected the moons glow and created lights that flashed on the peeling wallpapers. It was like a wonderland in hell- it was so beautiful, but you knew it would not last forever, just like dreams. She could not flee nor could she admire for she was just like a doll.

    She knew that Mama and Papa would not be coming back; she knew long, long ago, yet why did she stay? The dream ended long ago so why did it feel like it as though it has not ended? The dream felt like a melody on a record player which as repeated many songs, but was always stuck on the ending. It skipped and skipped but she did not notice.

    Tick tock.

    The clock reminded its master that it was now eleven forty-five and slowly she felt the night grip her. Her breathing was becoming slower and she felt the world slowly slipping from her. This was not what she wanted for she had to see Mama and Papa before she could rest, just one more time.

    Her eyelids felt heavy from the moon’s glow and her bottle .

    Tick tock

    Just as she thought it was all over a soft light appeared and she felt the happiness flow through her even if she could not move. She saw Mama and Papa smile at her warmly and she felt herself run to them. Finally, they had come back. She felt like she could dance again.

    A knock was heard at the door and the old butler walked in, ”Pardon me, Lady Rose, but…”, he was leaning over as he walked to her. He stopped a few feet away and went over to the record player which kept skipping. The old man slowly turned to her as he saw her in the moonlight as she sat motionless.

    “Lady Rose, I am sorry to say that your mother and father…have passed away. They died from the explosion due to the cannon ball striking the house they were staying at. I am sorry that your parents were killed by the Confederates careless aiming,” he stood there as he watched her and she did not move or talk.

    “Lady Rose, I see…that you are dressed in black. Lady Rose?” This did not make sense to him for he did not tell her before hand at eleven when her parents had died. It was only her and him in the mansion at this time. Could it be…?

    He saw that in the moonlight that her face was tearstained and he walked over to her.”Lady Rose…?” She did not respond and he brushed her hand. The realization hit him as he looked at her face- her face gave an eerie glow and the way her hand felt, he knew. A small smile graced her pale lips.

    He stared at her and saw how her eyes did not blink and he saw the bottle at her feet. He picked it up and held it up to the moonlight and read what it said. He gave a small gasp as it slipped from his hand and broke.
    Poison.

    The old man knew and walked over to the open window. He could no longer serve his masters and so he threw himself to the world below him, never to return. The clock’s hand kept swinging back and forth, back and forth….

    Tick tock
    Time is the only thing that will remain untamed.



    A/N:Okay, I hope no one was confused-its during the Civil War. You see at 11:00p.m that’s when Rose took the poison and a half hour later the poison started to take effect and she did not want to ‘rest’ yet because she had to see her family. She knew where her parents were and knew when they didn’t come home that they had died which was why she was wearing black. I described her as a doll because the poison made her look like one and she was still like a doll because the poison was effecting her system. I wanted to prove that time would remain untamed because no can control it and it has no emotions-like a doll.
    Well, please leave comments, my dolls!