Anthony's Literary Lens

Tag: time

The Ticking Time Bomb
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As I walked along the deserted pier, the sound of the crying waves echoed in my ears. The sky was overcast and the only light came from the faint glow of a four-faced clock. As I approached it, I noticed that each face displayed a different time – how odd. It left me feeling uneasy, as if I had stumbled upon something I wasn’t supposed to see.

I heard a soft rustling in the darkness behind me. I turned to see a just visible old fisherman sitting on a nearby bench. He looked up at me and nodded in acknowledgement. I walked over to him and hesitantly asked about the clock. He looked at me with a mix of sadness and confusion, as if he was grappling with something, and had been for the longest time. Something beyond his understanding.

“The clock represents the shambles that is the state of the Earth,” he said slowly. “Each face symbolises one of the four primordial elements of earth, water, air, and fire. They are out of sync; caused by the climate crisis.”

I listened intently, trying to grasp the significance of his words. In a daze, I turned to the clock and studied it carefully. It was as if the clock was alive, its hands moving at different speeds, each face telling a different story. The air face showed a time of destruction, the earth face showed a time of decay, the water face showed a time of flood, and the fire face showed a time of burning.

Suddenly, I felt a sense of urgency. I turned back to the old fisherman to ask him what needed to be done, but he was gone. The bench was empty, as if he had never been there. I looked around, but there was no sign of him. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.

As I walked, trancelike from the clock, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been witness to something otherworldly that I just couldn’t comprehend. The four-faced clock had shown me a glimpse of the state of the Earth, a warning of what was to come if we didn’t act soon. It has shown me that time is running out. Then I heard the old fisherman in the wave’s whispers, “The time for action is now.”

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11th Mar 2023
Empty Chair Full Of Memories
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As I gaze upon the empty chair with its colourful crocheted blanket draped over the back and a soft cushion on the seat, memories flood my mind. This chair was once occupied by a woman who lived a long and fulfilling life. Born in 1930, she had witnessed the world change in ways unimaginable to her younger self.

She would often sit here, her aged body taking comfort in the softness of the cushion, the warmth of the blanket enveloping her. Her stories would flow like a river, taking me on a journey through time. She had seen wars, economic depressions, and technological advancements that would make her head spin.

But through it all, she remained steadfast, her love for life undiminished. The crocheted blanket and cushion were her constant companions, comforting her in moments of solitude and providing warmth in chilly evenings.

And then, one day, she was gone. The chair remained, but it was empty. The crocheted blanket and cushion still rested on the chair, but they were no longer needed. The chair was no longer a place of comfort and companionship, but a reminder of what was lost.

Next to the chair stands an old Aga stove, a faithful companion to the lady who once sat in the chair. The kettle still sits atop, the tea towels drying, waiting for their owner to return. But she never will.

The chair, the crocheted blanket, the cushion, the Aga stove, all relics of a time gone by. A time when things were simpler, when people took comfort in the warmth of a fire, the company of loved ones, and the joy of a hand-crafted blanket.

As I sit here, looking at the empty chair, I am reminded of the transience of life. Of how we come and go, leaving behind memories and objects that once held great meaning but now remain as only reminders of what was. The empty chair is a symbol of the passing of time, of the impermanence of all things.

In the end, as I look closer, I see the beauty in the impermanence. The chair and its bits and pieces may no longer serve their original purpose, but they remain as reminders of a life lived to the fullest. A life filled with love, joy, and companionship. And in that, there is comfort, knowing that even though she is gone, the memory of the lady who once occupied this place will live on forever.

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