Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 63289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Everywhere I looked, there were clocks of every shape and size floating in a twinkling galaxy. Big cuckoo clocks decorated with intricate details. Wall clocks that popped in and out of existence. Pocket watches spinning through the air like snowflakes. Antique grandfather clocks that loomed tall against the night sky.
That's it.
And all the clocks' hands spun faster and faster.
I know what we have to do.
An eerie calm settled over me.
Then, a new existence bled through. Clocks morphed into Claire and Bernard, Horace and Ryan. The galaxy tightened and then formed into the limo.
I turned to my right and Estelle sat next to me.
Then, Michael Jackson's Remember the Time played around me.
I swallowed down my gloom and began to mull over the only remedy that had come to my mind.
Claire yelled over the music. “Yes. I love M.J!”
Chapter 21
Shattered
Everyone jammed to the song.
“Maya!” Claire yelled. “I have a special something in here to relax you this evening. Just let me know at the Gala when you want to go out and have a break.”
If Ethan and I want to get out of this, then we're going to have to break time.
Horace raised his voice over the music. “Maya can't smoke tonight at the party. She must be an elegant and captivating lady this evening.”
Claire laughed. “Why?”
“Because I believe Vanderbilt has a major interest in her.”
Claire laughed louder.
But how would we break time?
I gazed out of the window as our limo sped through the night. In all the rides, I never looked outside. I always focused on the inside of the vehicle.
Tonight, the world rushed by in a blur of lights and shadows.
Streetlights flickered past in a steady stream, casting pools of golden illumination on the pavement below. The neon signs of passing businesses glimmered in the darkness, their bright colors and bold letters fading in and out of view like a shimmering mirage.
Was time like a mirror? Could it be shattered into countless fragments?
“Ah!” Ryan yelled.
It must have been the moment when he dropped the glass and stained the front of his gray pants.
Horace's voice held disgust. “Are you serious right now?”
Still staring out the window, I caught glimpses of passing cars and buildings, their shapes and colors blurring together into an abstract tapestry of motion and sound.
Meanwhile, I felt strangely disconnected from it all—the world outside and even the moments within this limo.
It was just a dream.
A memory.
A surreal experience.
Was it even real or fake? Was it the past or the present?
The chorus came in and M.J. began to ask if the other person remembered all the good times they had, when they were in love.
How do we break time? It's not tangible. Or is it?
Bernard raised his voice over the song. “Hey. I have a good joke. There’s a bunch of people on an airplane and it begins to have a bumpy ride—”
“Absolutely not!” Claire placed her hand on his stomach. “That is a racist joke, baby. You are not saying it.”
The limo turned onto the Vanderbilt estate.
Then, suddenly out of nowhere, I heard this faint ticking sound within the song.
Was that there before?
I had no idea. Usually, I was interacting with everyone in the limo.
Tick. Tock. Tick Tock.
The steady beat pulsed through my veins.
Tick. Tock. Tick Tock.
“I asked you to do one thing.” Horace lowered and grabbed the glass on the floor. “I begged you to keep it together this evening and you couldn’t even do that.”
“Oh I’m so sorry.” Ryan groaned. “I hope I’m not embarrassing you in front of your friends.”
Tick. Tock. Tick Tock.
It reminded me of the grandfather clock in Ethan's office.
Tick. Tock. Tick Tock.
Suddenly, a spark ignited in my mind.
If in order to end the time loop, we had to break time itself? Then, what better way to do that than by destroying the grandfather clock in his office?
It was the very symbol of time, and I was sure it was the object that triggered this loop in the first place.
Bernard spoke, “But how is the joke racist, sweetie?”
“You are literally saying racist derogatory terms in the joke.”
“But the people in the joke are black so they can say it if they’re black—”
“Yet, you can’t say it. . .”
Needing to think, I blocked their voices out of my mind.
So, how do we destroy it?
In my head, ideas spun, and I began to brainstorm the many ways to break the grandfather clock.
I imagined Ethan and me with sledgehammers, slamming them into the sides and splintering the wood. In my mind, we ripped apart the delicate cogs and gears. We smashed the carvings and glass.
And in the end, nothing remained but piles of shattered metal, glass, and wood.
But. . .
I had to think of the possible consequence of this.
If we broke it, would we be truly stuck in this time loop forever?
When the limo pulled up to the Manor, I saw Ethan waiting. Guards surrounded him.