Sunday, July 12, 2009

Impossible Time

There is an old pendulum wall clock in our living room that has never, in my twelve years of residence, ticked, tocked, or struck. There is a good reason for this; it's broken. Like, seriously broken. Pieces are missing; springs are spring. It is pining for the fjords. It is an ex-clock.

And then yesterday, I ran into it with my elbow. It swung wild for a minute on the wall. I caught it, steadied it, set it back not quite straight.

And then, with a great ratcheting whirring noise of gears, the clock started to tick. The pendulum began to swing.

And an hour later, it rang time.

A full day later, it's still going.

Now, the clock is not accurate; it rings whatever hour it darn well feels like, when it feels like it; and the pendulum loses and gains time arbitrarily; and the hands seem to regress and advance at whim. That is not the point. This clock shouldn't be working at all. It is not possible for this clock to even simulate function. And yet it is doing so.

Much as I'd like to maintain my rationality, here, a lifetime of fiction addiction and subsequent genre awareness prevents me. Clearly, this is a portent of some great sort. I choose to believe it signals that this is the time to achieve impossible things-- write a novel! Win the lottery! Clean all the dishes and have a clean sink for an entire day!

And, of course, pack a bag for traveling in an alternate universe. Because if this baby strikes thirteen, it's go time. I've read the books.


Seriously, it's weird. Tell me of weirdness in your world! Or what impossible things you want to do! A very nosy person wants to know!


Merily said...

Woah! That's just strange! I'm sure I could make a Discworld joke here since Time often comes into play, but alas, I can't think of anything.

Head Bitch in Charge said...

omg, pining for the fjords...please tell me that's a Monty Python reference!

mermaiden said...

i *love* this tale. it's not tall; it's ferreal. how cool you? you and your magic self.
i have a stories aplenty, but i will share one...
i bought some uncleaned ancient roman coins and have been trying to get their faces to shine for months and months. one cleaning session, while deeply pondering the last person to hold them, suddenly there was someone standing next to me poised to strike me. my reaction was so physical and i raised my arms to protect myself.
well, other weirdness transpired which is even harder to believe, so i'll stop here. needless to say i was heavily freaked out.

PonderandStitch said...

This is pretty much the best blog post ever! You've entertained me to no end (seriously).


Carapace said...

Merily, I think it's more a Last Unicorn thing-- you know, when the broken clock strikes twelve...

Please tell me you've read the Last Unicorn. Everyone! Go read that now! ok?

HBITC- But of course, madame! What else would it be! I am a geek of the old school, not like these punk kids today who just look at you blankly when called upon to witness the violence inherent in the system. Tragic.:P

Mermaiden-- I need the rest of that story, if only in private. I have ways of making! I will know your secrets, oh yesss...

Ponder- Welcome! I hope you know flattery will get you everything around here.;) Seriously, thank you.

amanda said...

ooo. your story is weird. that clock is weird. id prob find it creepy. you know what i just remembered something weird that happened when i was younger. i had this cute/scary clown thingie that had a windup in back and played "its a small world after all". well it broke. i tried everything to fix it. including opening the thing up and trying my own hand at repairing the thing. well it was busted. except one night. i was falling asleep and all the sudden i hear the eerie notes of "its a small world after all". i nearly peed myself no joke. i must've been in 3rd grade. i covered my head with my blanket and the next day threw the clown away. so yea. thats why i find the clock scary.

Carapace said...

Amanda- holy crow, did your clown doll have orange frizzy hair? 'Cause I think I might have had the same thing. It creeped me out plenty, because it had its head on a pivot and would slooooowly rotate with the music. I think relatives give us these possessed clown dolls so we learn an important lesson: there is no monster under the bed, because clowns wouldn't fit there.