blaidd96

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He sat in a blank white room, nothing but a single fluorescent light in the middle of the ceiling. There were no doors, no windows. There wasn't even a table or a chair. The only sound was the low hum of the mild light. He had no clue where he was, nor how he had gotten there. He wore a simple plain white shirt with matching pants that were just as equally detailed. He started walking around the room, feeling the blank, white walls. Every wall felt the same, seamless and unyielding. He found no hidden hinges or any secret buttons that might open something up. Eventually, he gave up, and simply sat down in one of the corners of the room. "Where am I?" he asked himself. "Or, for that matter, how did I even get here?" Again, his memory proved void of ever entering the room. He sighed and rested his head against his arms. He sat there for a an amount of time, though he had no clue for how long exactly. He soon got up and began pacing around the room. He again felt along all the walls, hoping to find something and, again, he found nothing. He was about to give up when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something. There was a small rectangle on the opposite wall, with something else in the center of it. As he walked closer, he realized that it was actually a light switch. "That wasn't there before..." he muttered to himself. He had gone over these walls twice and not once had he seen the light switch. He traced the outside of it, feeling the smooth plastic of the cover, the switch with small words printed on it, saying 'On'. He thought fore a while, whether to flip it or not. It might be some sort of trap, causing the walls to start to close in on him. Or the switch might be just that; a switch to turn the light on and off. Finally, he decided and put his hand on the small switch. There seemed to be nothing else to do. He flipped it. Suddenly, the entire room was thrown into a thick blackness. He listened to his heart, the only thing he heard now that the light made no sound. But as he continued to listen, he realized that it wasn't his heart. It sounded like a constant ticking, like something similar to a metronome and something that was definitely in the room. He again flipped the switch, again flooding the room with light. After his eyes adjusted and he stopped blinking, he saw that the room seemed to be just the same, but with one exception. On the far wall was a plain black and white clock, ticking away. Currently, the hands indicated it was several minutes until noon. Or, it could have been midnight, for all he knew. He watched the clock, watched the hands, making their way around the clock face. It all seemed to move slower and slower, the ticking getting louder and louder. It seemed as if he was either getting closer to the clock or it was growing bigger. Finally, after what seemed like such a long time, all hands rested on the twelve, all except the second hand. He watched as it ate up the remaining few seconds, getting ever closer to that number twelve. As soon as the second hand touched the twelve, all of it stopped. The hour hand, the minute hand, even the second hand. It all stopped on that twelfth numeral. He blinked, confused at the sudden change. One moment, everything was in an intense state. The next, nothing. He wondered at what had just happened when he heard a small noise, like somebody whispering. It slowly got louder, just like the clock's ticking, until he could make out what it said. "Wake... Up... Wake, up. Wake up!" And he woke.

writing since 2011 · 2 entries · 2 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Blaidd showed up.

1longest streak

2days written

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on this day 15 years ago

Blaidd wrote about compassion
“There he sat, feeling alone. He didn't know what to do anymore. The world seemed so cruel now, and nothing made sense anymore. If only he had someone to talk to... But then he heard footsteps and whe…”

the words Blaidd reaches for

roomlightswitchhandsatsecondstoppedwhitewallstickingclockfeelinganymoreheardhimselfwall