The Clock

In the dark, foreboding gloom of the bedroom, the clock on the bedside table was a ghostly green glow, and made a whirring sound like the night insects.

Thornton Caldecott lay flat on his back, the sheet pulled up tight under his chin, his gaunt body shivering from the chill that pervaded the room. He thought of sitting up and pulling the light blanket over himself as well, then changed his mind. It really didn't matter; just more suffering in a life that was filled to the brim with suffering.

He stared blankly up at the ceiling, a lighter shade of gloom than the walls and floor. His mind was filled with all the reasons he had every right to feel miserable.

It started with Cynthia, his girl friend of seven years, giving him an ultimatum; propose, set a wedding date, or the relationship is finished. He'd tried to explain to her that he wanted to wait until he got the promotion he had long waited for at his job, but she was having none of that. She felt her biological clock was ticking down - and her only thirty-five - and if she didn't get on with becoming a wife and mother, she would spend the rest of her days lonely and alone.

On what Thornton took home after union dues and taxes, he felt barely able to keep one body and soul together. The thought of having to care for an extra person - or more, and one or more of them children, frightened him.

Cynthia was true to her threat. When he hesitated, she turned and walked out the door without even so much as a good bye. She'd been gone for a week and he'd not heard from her in all that time. She did not return his calls, and when he went to her apartment, the doorman informed him that she had left instructions that he was not allowed entry; she would accept no letters or notes, and she never wanted to see or hear from again.

The second shoe fell when this morning, his boss called him into the office. Thornton had worked for Consolidated Electronics as a stock clerk for ten years, and he'd never been in the boss's office. He hoped that the summons meant that he was finally getting that promotion that he was certain he deserved.

Instead, he'd been informed that Consolidated had been hit hard by the economic down turn, and they were forced to reduce staff. Marginal or low performing employees were being laid off indefinitely. He hadn't been told into which category he fit, but it hardly mattered. He was now unemployed. He'd had problems making ends meet on his salary; the meager amount he could get in unemployment compensation wouldn't pay his rent.

Thornton walked home in a daze. He normally took the bus, but it didn't seem to make sense to spend money on bus fare with no money coming in.

He's skipped supper; sitting in the darkened living room watching the news on TV. That many others had been impacted by the economic crisis hardly mattered.

Finally, at nine, he'd made his decision. He undressed and put on his best pajamas; worn at the elbows and knees, but the best he had. He turned back the covers, went to the bathroom and took the little vial from the medicine cabinet; filled a glass with water from the basin; and went back into the bedroom.

He sat on the edge of the bed for an hour, staring at the little vial of pills; a prescription he'd gotten several months earlier to help control his moods of depression. They hadn't really helped, but perhaps now they would.

He took a deep breath; picked up the vial and twisted off the cap and emptied its contents into his mouth. He followed this with a long drink from the glass. Then, he lay back on the bed, pulled the sheet tightly to his chin, and waited.

How long it would take for the pills to work, he had no idea. He lay still, trembling in the chill, and waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, he felt a tightening in his chest, and found it hard to breathe. Even in the dark room, it seemed to get darker. At last, his trembling stopped. His open eyes stared sightlessly up at the dark gray ceiling.

In the dark, foreboding gloom of the bedroom, the clock on the bedside table was a ghostly green glow, and made a whirring sound like the night insects.

THE END