The Trouble With Clocks ((open))
Aug 22, 2009 21:25:55 GMT -5
Post by hook on Aug 22, 2009 21:25:55 GMT -5
As if suddenly waking up to find himself in what appeared to be a completely different world wasn't bad enough, Hook now found himself face to face with an entire store filled with oddly shaped clocks. Some were in the shape of normal clocks, some were in the shape of books, some even had additional faces on them. The faces of humans, or animals. He grimaced at the sounds they were making, the constant tick-tock, tick-tock, grating on his already frazzled nerves. He wanted the sound to go away desperately, but it persisted.
His obsidian eyes were wild with panic as he heard one particular clock that sounded disturbing familiar. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock went, over and over again. Although there were easily hundreds of clocks in the shop, his eyes easily found the one making that sound. There it was, near the back of the shop. Red and white, with two metal orbs sticking up from the sides of the top. It was the same blasted clock that had tormented him for so many long years.
Taking out his gun in one swift movement he fired, and the clock jumped a good foot into the air, before falling to the floor of the shop. He jammed the barrel of his pistol back into its holster and marched stiff-legged out of the shop, ignoring the horrified and scared stares he was receiving. When he was back out on the street things were much quieter, though the hustle and bustle of people still unnerved him. He was going to have to explore, he knew, if he wanted to find out where he was now. And whether he knew it or not, he was the sort to draw attention, with the way he looked, the weapons he carried on him, and the stunt he had just pulled in the clock store.
His obsidian eyes were wild with panic as he heard one particular clock that sounded disturbing familiar. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock went, over and over again. Although there were easily hundreds of clocks in the shop, his eyes easily found the one making that sound. There it was, near the back of the shop. Red and white, with two metal orbs sticking up from the sides of the top. It was the same blasted clock that had tormented him for so many long years.
Taking out his gun in one swift movement he fired, and the clock jumped a good foot into the air, before falling to the floor of the shop. He jammed the barrel of his pistol back into its holster and marched stiff-legged out of the shop, ignoring the horrified and scared stares he was receiving. When he was back out on the street things were much quieter, though the hustle and bustle of people still unnerved him. He was going to have to explore, he knew, if he wanted to find out where he was now. And whether he knew it or not, he was the sort to draw attention, with the way he looked, the weapons he carried on him, and the stunt he had just pulled in the clock store.