The Clock Ticks Down to Doom: A Frightening Story

While perusing some old files on my computer this evening, I ran across an old story I wrote for a high school English class when I was fifteen. It's a fictional, tongue-in-cheek story based on some of my experiences growing up as a nerdy kid who loved to read books from the library. I just have to get it out here for the rest of the world. I hope you enjoy it.

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The Clock Ticks Down to Doom: A Frightening Story
by Jordan Buckley
1/21/02

One day in my youth, I was happily at work building my army of Legos. Outside, you could see through the trees to the Kennebec River flowing sluggishly by. Mosquitoes, black flies, and other kinds of flies buzzed around, waiting for someone to venture outside and be eaten. That time of the year was called bug season by the local Maine inhabitants.

My array of Lego soldiers was about halfway completed when I heard the garage door and knew my dad was home. Soon afterward my mom began calling me upstairs for dinner. Disappointed that my army was still not in order, I nonetheless hurried upstairs. As we sat down at the table, my dad picked up a nearby book that I had recently borrowed from the public library. It was a book about dinosaurs, and I had long since read it through. He asked me a little about it, and then turned to the back flap. Suddenly the blood began to drain from his face, and I asked him what was wrong. Wordlessly, he handed me the book, open to the back inside cover.

It felt as if an icy chill had enveloped my whole body. There, under the Date Due heading, stamped sloppily in bluish-black ink, was a single date: Feb. 23. Today’s date!

We lived two hours away from the library, and it closed at 7:00 pm. My eyes darted to the wall clock; 6:52 pm. I felt as though a huge ice-cold stone was on top of my chest, crushing the life of my soul. My doom was sealed; we would have to pay the late fee!

Abruptly, like a ray of hope piercing the darkness, my mother’s voice came. “Maybe you can call and renew it in time.” There was still a glimmer of hope. I ran to the phone directory and began fumbling through the pages, hindered by my panic, every now and again glancing at the clock as my end ticked nearer. Finally I located the number with only seconds to spare. In a mad race against time, I dialed the digits, hoping against hope that I could survive this ordeal. Time seemed to crawl as the phone rang, fear welling up inside me that the secretary might have gone home and left me to this horrible fate. To my wondrous joy, she finally answered. Trembling, I asked her to renew my books. Like warm, beautiful sunlight her words came, forever engrained on my heart: “Alright sir, you have an additional two weeks before the books are due.”