Picture?width=100&height=100 Jam O. Winter

3 mins.

The Clock Just Tick-Tocks

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The Clock Just Tick-Tocks

by Picture?width=100&height=100 Jam O. Winter 3 mins.

It isn't at all that easy to write nor it is to be written. To listen and to be heard... In as much as to love and to be loved.

I found myself beginning to love collecting leaves. Weird as it may seem, but I remember being fascinated with every type of leaf when I was a child. I think I began with such collection about a year ago for a reason I couldn't ...

It was a phone call that made me budge from what seemed like a very lazy Sunday. I was lying on my bed, flipping through the pages of David Levithan's "Another Day" when my phone started ringing. I rolled my eyes at yet another unknown number calling. I usually do not answer such, but for some reason that day, I did.

The next thing I knew, I was at this place called Pen and Paper's Garden, a restaurant most probably owned by a writer. The place was filled with shelves of notebooks with a pen inserted on its sides. As if ready for every scribbler.

Some already looked as though they were about to fall out. The ambiance was actually perfect for every writer... Plants were everywhere... beautiful flowers... the leaves, though didn't look anything familiar... I shrugged the thought. I called the person I went there for but I could not seem to reach him. So I walked around the place while waiting...

It was supposed to be a meeting with a client who wanted to have me proofread his poetry book. He sounded so desperate. When I asked him how he got my number, he just told me we'll talk about the details when we meet. Looking around, I started to be conscious of what I was wearing. Everyone seemed to have worn something fit to the place's purpose - elegantly weird. Me? I just wore a plain white shirt with a pair of shorts and that's it. That's probably how writers are - they can be weird at times.

And then I saw him - at least I felt confident that it was him. He was beaming at me - or wait, I assumed that because I was the only one standing in that corner near one of the shelves, by the entrance to the café’s garden. I wasn’t sure why he looked so familiar, as though I’ve seen him in one of my workshops or perhaps, in one of my weird dreams… Yes, alright, he seemed to have brought me into a different world, fine! And yes, his staring big brown eyes felt like carrying me through to some land.

Out of awkward whatever, I smiled at him and introduced myself. But you know what the weird thing was? He said he knew and that there’s no need of such introduction, but he didn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he led me to a chair beside him and showed me his poem collection. I asked him his name but I’m not sure if I heard it right because he started talking about his masterpieces. He left me in awe of how passionate he was with every written line. Well, I write too, but this guy just had it in him. I grabbed a pen that was sitting right next to his cup of coffee, looked at him as if to ask if it were okay. He answered me with a smile and a nod. I pretended to scribble some notes on a piece of paper… He then continued to explain to me one of him poems entitled “Tick-tock”. I was no longer sure where I was because it seemed like the masterpiece he was telling me about was directed to me… “The clock just tick-tocks, my mind is raising...

It's you I am chasing...”

My heart felt as though it was joining a race. T’was seemingly running, beating too fast. His eyes met mine… I would’ve melted and then he smiled! That’s it. I knew I was falling… Falling into his words, his gaze… And then everything went dark… My head was seemingly spinning…

I woke up and heard the clock tick-tock… Damn, was I just dreaming?! It probably was because I found myself in bed on my PJs. I cringed. Everything felt so real. A tear fell down from my cheek. I hugged my pillow but I felt something strange… I had a pen in my right hand… “But how?”, I asked myself… And then the clock just tick tocks…

  • #shortstory

© Jam O. Winter, 2018. All rights reserved.


Jam O. Winter


I was writing this for a dear friend and thought of sharing the piece here... Nothing really special though. Still learning, will continue learning from all of your stories. I am inspired by you :)


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scotchxsoda @scotchxsoda
This story is awesome!
Jam @jamo.winter

Thank you @angelicalyn ! :)

riez @rieztampos
Finally!..please publish the poem...I like it to much...!
Jam @jamo.winter

I love you! I might. Later. Haha!