• Imagine you’re inside a clock tower in a different realm. Hmm… let’s say a completely different world. That’s exactly what happened to me Tuesday, October 12. The exact time was 11:01pm 3 seconds. I was inside the tower that controls space, time, life. The Grandfather. Cyrus my half brother stared at me with a steady gaze.

    “You’re late again. What’s the excuse?” Cyrus asks in his cold, chilly voice.
    I stare at all of the screws turning round and round. “I was enjoying a cocktail party. Apparently there’s this word called fun. You should try to be more like that word… what was it? Ah, yes, fun!” I said my tone of voice like a human on the brink of death.

    “It’s too late! You know it-” Cyrus pauses staring at me cold, blood thirsty eyes. His eyes tell me that my mistake was too grand. I stare at my shimmery black cocktail dress; a breeze passes through Cyrus as he clucks his tongue. The screws of the clock stop for a dead moment.

    Then in misery and darkness Cyrus takes out a pistol. The pistol is anything but ordinary, its silver with a strange c**k at the end of it. I turn my gaze to the gun, “You wouldn’t! I know,” my voice is as chilling as a frothy cold drink, “Maybe I don’t, but if you shoot me… the deal is done!”

    Suddenly the gun aims right at my chest. I am nervous for I’ve never been at the brink of extinction… I slip. I slip off of the beam that had been the only connection to life. I am falling. Falling… yes I’m falling. I shut my eyes carefully as the hazy fog traps me.