2019 Writing Event A Corpse of Time & Restored

HowlingWoods

"And she heaved the forest upon her back"
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Author's Notes: This piece is in two parts, and the second part is technically a sequel to the first. If this is unacceptable, please just judge the first half. Just in case you're checking for copyright, I've posted this online at Quotev.com under the username 'Karmatose', and I've also submitted it to my school's literary magazine and won first place on their Spring Contest, so it is also featured on their website. That said, please enjoy the story!

A Corpse of Time
It was quiet.

I didn’t think that silence was something I’d ever quite get used to. It was an oddity, even though it often seemed that the courtyard beneath me was rarely ever bustling with activity anymore. It seemed like a distant memory to think that I had watched a young couple meet in the courtyard below me mere years ago, their twin smiles shining like constant stars. Now, it seemed that the only people that met in my courtyard were the birds, their constantly present chirping hardly enough to distract me from the stillness of the world around me. The cars that had once seemed such a constant thing that the absence of their passing seemed impossible, now sat abandoned along the roadside, their doors often left ajar. In my more melancholy moments, I would wonder if they felt quite as lonely as I did. And in this quietness, I found myself considering, maybe even hoping, if there was anything that hadn’t yet been forgotten.

Perhaps more than seeing more liveliness, I wished to hear the sound of my bell. I didn’t think I’d miss it as much as I had...until it was gone. It had rusted away, vines tugging at it’s tongue as if to pull it out so it may never ring again. It had once had such a beautiful, clear sound; a sound that rang every hour, on the hour. Like clockwork, it would startle those in my courtyard, reminding them of the time. “Oh dear! I’m almost late to work!” They would say as they gazed up at my face, and I felt proud for having been so useful as to remind them. And as the sun dipped under the horizon, I would turn my hands dutifully, never missing a minute’s passing.

Oh, how I missed moving my hands! They would turn with the soft hum of gears grinding against each other, passing a new milestone in the progress towards a new day. How much I desired to hear those gears once more, what I would give to move my hands again! If only I could have torn away the vines that clawed at my face, to have scrubbed away the rust that my gears had garnered. And yet, all I could have done was watch with a foreboding sense of longing as I was stripped of my very purpose in existing. It seemed such a cruel fate, for one that had always been so dedicated, so truly devoted to their task, to have that task be torn away from them in such a way.

And yet maybe more cruel was the mere fact that I couldn’t have done anything to change my fate. I was only able to simply watch, to chronicle the passing of time as quietly as the courtyard beneath me now stood. As I watched the ravens circle the remains of a deer that had long since been lost to the passing of time, I knew what I was. Like the doe below me, I was merely another corpse of time. I was what was left behind when the soul had long since fled, a hollow reminder of what had once been beautiful.

And I knew then, in that moment that was just as still as the last, that I was no longer alive. Somehow, it seemed such a relief to finally let the vines I had resisted for so long pull me apart, to let them pick at me in the same way that the ravens now did that doe. And as I, in all the towering greatness I once had, crumbled to the ground in a rain of bricks and stone, my glass face shattered beneath my weight...I knew what would happen after the dust settled and whatever consciousness I had left faded.

It was quiet.
Restored
I felt like I had shattered.

A gaping hole consumed my very being as I watched my mother fall to the vines, helpless to do anything about it. For years before the vines came, I had called out to my mother dutifully -- every hour, on the hour. I would ring loud and clear, calling attention to the time my mother displayed so proudly. I knew she was proud of me, too...Until the vines came. Now, they restrained my tongue, threatening to pull it out so I may never ring again. My mother was gone, nothing left of her but a pile of bricks and stone.

I cried.

I didn’t realize I had been freed until after my tongue had begun to strike the sides of my mouth, my cries causing the vines to retreat further away. I was angry, upset, and perhaps more than all that -- lonely. I had always had my mother to keep me company, even in this quiet apocalypse. Now she was gone. It was a long while before I noticed the crowd of humans around me, no doubt attracted by my sound and marveling at the fact that the vines were retreating from the noise. I didn’t hear most of their conversation, their voices drowned out by my bawling. When I finally quieted, my tongue still trembling as I stared at my mother’s corpse, the vines encroaching on her steadily, I could do nothing but stare.

And so, I stared as the human survivors hacked at the vines with their funny blades, protecting the corpse of time. I stared as the vines retreated from my mother, and I stared as they began to rebuild her, brick by crumbling brick. I didn’t understand at first, until I saw their hopeful faces and realized they thought we could save the city from the vines. Maybe we could. Hope radiated through me as they polished my sides and sealed up my cracks. I would see my mother again!

It was many years before I finally saw my mother stand tall once more, her face lighting up with her new back lights as the sun dipped under the horizon, her freshly painted hands reminding me that it was almost time. Just a little bit longer…

The humans watched in eager silence, their faces turned up to stare at her height as they crowded the courtyard. Her minute hand reached the XII, her hour hand reaching the VIII. I knew that was my cue. I rang loud and proud, watching in awe as the vines retreated, slithering out of the courtyard and away from the city. I knew my mother had a better view, but I was content simply to see what I could. The humans cheered, raising their fists into the air in celebration, the children jumping in excitement. Once more, I was reunited with my mother.

I had been restored.

We had been restored.
 

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