Final Hours

Nothing lasts forever

 

 

 

 

Final Hours

by jack

 

The final hours had arrived for the old clock tower in the town square. I am its caretaker and each morning for the past fifty-two years I have made my way up the five flights of rickety stairs to oil the components and adjust the large metal gears so that this clock is always accurate. Each day the hammer releases and sounds out the hour to the townspeople.

 

Due to economic problems, the city council has voted and the clock tower is set for demolition in the morning. This day it would ring out its final hours, then be silenced forever. 

 

I was determined that its conclusive showing would be its grandest. I arrive earlier than usual and meticulously oil each moving part. I polished the large brass bell until it shines brighter than the sun. I precisely adjusted the large black hands so that the time is exactly correct. 

 

My heart is saddened with every clang and now it is only minutes until it rings midnight and I have to shut this old clock down, the final hour. I counted the clicks of the gears as it wound down the minutes one last time. I see the giant spring release the hammer as it tolls the final hour. I count along; one, two, three, my heart pounds, four, five six, my chest tightens, seven, eight, tears well up in my eyes, nine, ten, and then it stops.

 

"Oh my God, what has happened, everything seemed to be in working order?" I question to no one in particular as I check each setting, but there are no more chimes. I guess it just knew the end was here. I stare one last time up at my old friend and whisper good-bye. 

 

The next morning a member of the demolition crew makes his way up the staircase as the clock begins to chime; it is eight in the morning. “Right on time,” he thinks. He feels sad inside knowing that this old clock has to come down, but this is his job. He enters the room at the top of the stairway as his two-way radio crackles.

“Ben,” it is the voice of his foreman.

 

“Yes sir?”

 

“Abort the demolition, a private investor just bought the clock. It’s not coming down today after all.”

 

“That’s good, but you better call the police, we’ve got a body up here.”

 

 

Author's Note

A Flash Fiction

Thank you for reading

Reviews

[Porter]

Oh wow. That's intriguing. You did an awesome job building up to the point where the member of the demolition crew finds the body, and the walls came crumbling down inside of me. So much emotion in such a short amount of words. A rare feat. ~Never Forget

[Jack...]

Thanks so much. Flash Fiction is one of my passions

[DoNt LoSe YoUrSeLf]

This was a sad piece indeed, but was happy to know that the character died with what he loved to do. Knowing he did the right thing by ending his own life in order to save the bell. Death may be a tough thing, but it is quite beautiful at the same time...

[Jack...]

Thanks so much. Flash Fiction is one of my passions

[DoNt LoSe YoUrSeLf]

You are very welcome and I am sure you will be able to create more and be able to work with Flash Fiction once you keep practicing it and probably some research on it would help as well. In order to help you understand it more and how it works.

[Marie]

I thought the clock was dying, but I was wrong...
Sad story, but very good.

[Jack...]

Thanks Marie.