The Mind Keeper
Her eyelids were heavy and hard to open. Voices came to her; they were faint but urgent. As she listened to them she realized that they were yelling over another sound. What was it? It sounded almost like sirens. But here in this space that she occupied were much louder dominating noises. One was the unmistakable sound of a clock, ticking and tocking, crunching time into measurable, valuable units to be spent or wasted. The other was an unfamiliar sound that she couldn’t place at all. She forced her eyes open. Before her was the biggest clock face that she had ever seen. It reminded her of a setting sun, but the clock filled all visible space usually reserved for sky. The clock had a white, pale face. There was only one hand. It was big and black. There were no numbers on the clock, but only two big black lines where the six and the twelve were suppose to be. She noticed the hand was nearing the mark where the twelve should have been.
She raised herself into a sitting position and looked around. In front of her was the clock. But encompassing the place where she sat where pedestals. And on top of each pedestal was an hourglass. That was what the other noise was. It was the sound of sand running from the top of the hourglass to the bottom. It was the sound of time running out. She looked behind her and there were endless miles of grey. Grey cloudless sky and grey sand stretching away into eternity. There was no breeze, but she felt a chill. As she turned her head to look again at the clock, there before her stood the most frightening thing yet. A tall figure in a grey cloak; its arms hung at its sides and its head was bowed down and shrouded in a hood. Everything about it was ominous.
She stood to her feet breathing in frightful gasps.
“Am I dead?” she said to the silent figure.
“NOT YET.”
The words seemed to have been spoken by the figure, but they echoed and rebounded in the air. They were solemn words that reminded her of tombstones.
“What do you mean not yet? What is this place and who are you?” she said, her words etched in fear.
She wished that she hadn’t asked the last question. The figure raised its arms and reached up to lower its hood. It was as if someone had held a mirror up. The figure looked just like her, but its face was painted in white with its eyes and lips lined in black.
“WHO AM I? I AM YOU. AND I CREATED THIS PLACE.”
“This isn’t real. You can’t be standing here. And I can’t be here. I was in my car driving and there was that truck...”
The figure smiled. That was the most sinister thing of all.
The noise of the sand rose. The ticking of the clock echoed more profoundly. She looked up at its ghastly face and noticed that the hand was moving closer still to the top black mark.
She closed her eyes and tried to block out the sound of the clock and focus on the noises that were on the edge of her hearing. She heard sirens and people yelling. There was a loud tick and her concentration broke. She stared back at herself.
“If I’m not dead, then am I dying?”
“MAYBE. IT HAS YET TO BE DECIDED.”
“What about God? I thought that He controlled everything.”
“HE DOES. BUT HERE THERE IS ALWAYS FREE WILL AND THEREFORE A CHOICE.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t know why I’m here or what place this even is! I’m so confused!”
With these words she collapsed back onto the floor and cried. The ticking of the clock was growing unbearable. It not only grinded its way into her head, but her whole body. She felt the rhythm of her breath in time to the ticking. She didn’t understand. If she wasn’t dying what need was there for the clock? Or the sand? What happened when it hit the black mark on the top? What would happen when the sand ran out? She thought about the words the figure had spoken, or seemed to speak. She never saw its lips move. She looked up at it from her sitting position on the floor. It was looking at her. She was looking at her. It was one of the most eerie feelings she had ever had. Here there’s always free will. Here there’s a choice. Did that mean that she would get to choose if she lived or died? She wanted to live, but as she looked back up at the figure, she realized that it probably wouldn’t be as simple as that. She wished that the ticking would stop.
“THE TICKING CANNOT STOP.”
“You can hear my thoughts?”
“I AM YOU. YOUR THOUGHTS ARE MY THOUGHTS.”
“You frighten me,” she said in a small voice.
“YOU ARE FRIGHTENED OF YOURSELF.”
She bowed her head. It was the truth. She would sit at home and stare in the mirror wishing that her reflection wouldn’t stare back so menacingly. Her reflection taunted her; it knew who she was. It knew that while she looked average on the outside, that on the inside she was a wreck waiting to happen. Her reflection knew how she bottled everything up inside and only occasionally let a little of it out. She remembered once how her art teacher had instructed them to paint self portraits according to how they were feeling right then. She had painted her portrait with a shattered face. Her teacher had asked if she wanted to talk to the counselor, but she had politely refused saying, “I’m not crazy.”
But maybe she was if she was in this place. What was this place that the figure had created? Why was it all grey like an old black and white television show?
“GREY IS THE COLOR INBETWEEN.”
“Inbetween?”
Of course. Grey was between black and white; it was a mixture of the two colors. But was black and white? Good and Evil? Darkness and Light? What did that make grey?
“A BALANCE.”
She hated how the figure was answering her thoughts. Though since the figure kept claiming to be her, then wasn’t she simply answering her own questions? She put her head in her hands. This was too complicated! And the consistent ticking of that infernal clock! It was enough to drive anyone insane!
“Please stop the ticking!”
“IT CANNOT BE STOPPED.”
She was getting very angry. She hated the figure. She hated everything about it. It was taunting her just like her reflection. Like her reflection had been doing before she had taken the lamp from beside her bed and smashed it. She closed her eyes and remembered the shards of glass flying everywhere. She had meant to stop its smirking, but as she stared at the glass littering her room, she saw her reflection by the hundreds in each piece of broken glass. Each one was mocking her. That was when she had reached for her keys to the car.
She looked up at the figure and at the clock ticking away. She looked at all the hourglasses with their grey sand pouring through them. The sounds of the ticks and tocks and the pouring sand was unbearable. She would smash them all.
“THAT CANNOT BE DONE.”
She narrowed her eyes at the figure and leapt from the floor running towards the nearest hourglass. She ripped it from its pedestal and threw it on the ground. It bounced and rolled, but did not break.
“No!”
She ran to each hourglass and tried anyway she could think of to smash them, but they were unbreakable.
She fell to her knees in tears. This place was a nightmare. Was there no escape from all of this? She hated the figure, the clock and the hourglasses. And most of all she hated the fact that she couldn’t do anything about any of it. She felt so trapped. She flashback to the car. She had felt the same way now as she did when she had gotten into it. She remembered when she had thrown it in reverse and revved down her driveway. She had turned and executed a hard stop, thrown it into drive, and sped off down the road towards the setting sun. There had been tears in her eyes then too. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw her reflection, and saw her reflection’s eyes laughing at her. She had been trying to break the mirror off when she heard the honking and looked up at the truck slamming into her car head on. She remembered that the mirror had broken and shattered. It had been strangely satisfying.
Tick.
Tock.
“YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME.”
She looked at the hourglasses around her; they were all almost out of sand. She looked up at the clock; it was only a few ticks from the top mark. She looked up at the figure in front of her. It was smiling, taunting her just like her reflection. She clenched her teeth and leapt on top of the figure. It had put up its arms like it was trying to shield itself, but she grabbed its arms and pushed it to the ground.
The figure hit the ground with a deafening thud and the hourglasses shattered on their pedestals. The sand poured onto the ground. But she was almost oblivious in all that because of the rage that was exploding out of her. She straddled the figure with the intention to strangle it, but the sound of the clock cracking made her look up. The hand was on the top mark and the clock had ceased to tick. Instead of tolling it had cracked. She looked down at the figure. This was pure madness. Why was she wrestling with herself?
“BECAUSE SOMETIMES THAT IS WHAT IT TAKES.”
She looked up at the cracked and silent clock. She looked around her at the busted hourglasses. Everything was still and quiet except for her breathing. She blinked and the figure was standing in front of her again. She stood to her feet and faced it. She looked it straight in the eyes and saw herself looking back.
“I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
“I KNOW.”
“What happens now?”
The figure smiled, raised it arms, pointed its figures to the sky, and brought them down to its sides in a quick and fluid movement. She heard a loud rumble and she saw the clock turn counterclockwise until the top mark and the hand were at the bottom. The hourglasses flew off the ground, piecing themselves back together, the sand flying into the bulbs, and righting themselves on the pedestals. All the sand was once again in the top bulb. She brought her eyes back to the figure that had its head bowed. As the figure raised its head, she saw that it had lost its ghostly pallor and that its lips were pink and it eyes blue. It was smiling. But the smile had lost all the sinister gleam it once had.
“NOW THAT YOU HAVE FACED YOURSELF IT IS TIME TO GO HOME.”
She nodded her head, for once happy about the words that it had spoken. The figure raised its arms again and grasped her shoulders. It smiled and as it gripped her, she felt a shock that radiated from her chest throughout her body. It nearly took her breath away. She looked at the figure and at its smile. She felt another shock, more real than the last one had been and heard voices as if they were traveling over a distance. They were yelling, and there was the noise of sirens. The next shock made her close her eyes and breathe in sharply. When she opened her eyes, she found herself laying on her back and looking up at the sky. It was a dusky black and covered in grey clouds. The air smelled of rain and fire, and the wind was blowing. It blew pieces of her hair in her face.
She looked around her and noticed a ring of people looking at her. There was two paramedics hovering over her and checking her vitals and trying to talk to her. She wanted to sit up, but one of the paramedics pushed her back to the ground when she tried to. He told her to lay still and that she had been very lucky. As they put her on a stretcher and rolled her away she saw how right he had been. Her car was smashed into pieces. There was glass littering the road from her windows. She saw who she assumed was the driver of the truck that had hit her. She was glad to see that he was alright. He might have hit her, but she knew that the accident had been her fault. As she continued to look at him, she noticed off to his side was a figure. The driver was taking no notice of it since he was watching her. As she scanned the scene of the accident she saw that no one was noticing it either. It wore a grey clock and had its hooded head bowed. As she blinked, it disappeared and left a shimmering light in its place. There was a rumbling of thunder and the rain started to fall. As it hit the pavement, it had sounded like sand running through an hourglass, or maybe the ticking of a clock, who would ever know?
She raised herself into a sitting position and looked around. In front of her was the clock. But encompassing the place where she sat where pedestals. And on top of each pedestal was an hourglass. That was what the other noise was. It was the sound of sand running from the top of the hourglass to the bottom. It was the sound of time running out. She looked behind her and there were endless miles of grey. Grey cloudless sky and grey sand stretching away into eternity. There was no breeze, but she felt a chill. As she turned her head to look again at the clock, there before her stood the most frightening thing yet. A tall figure in a grey cloak; its arms hung at its sides and its head was bowed down and shrouded in a hood. Everything about it was ominous.
She stood to her feet breathing in frightful gasps.
“Am I dead?” she said to the silent figure.
“NOT YET.”
The words seemed to have been spoken by the figure, but they echoed and rebounded in the air. They were solemn words that reminded her of tombstones.
“What do you mean not yet? What is this place and who are you?” she said, her words etched in fear.
She wished that she hadn’t asked the last question. The figure raised its arms and reached up to lower its hood. It was as if someone had held a mirror up. The figure looked just like her, but its face was painted in white with its eyes and lips lined in black.
“WHO AM I? I AM YOU. AND I CREATED THIS PLACE.”
“This isn’t real. You can’t be standing here. And I can’t be here. I was in my car driving and there was that truck...”
The figure smiled. That was the most sinister thing of all.
The noise of the sand rose. The ticking of the clock echoed more profoundly. She looked up at its ghastly face and noticed that the hand was moving closer still to the top black mark.
She closed her eyes and tried to block out the sound of the clock and focus on the noises that were on the edge of her hearing. She heard sirens and people yelling. There was a loud tick and her concentration broke. She stared back at herself.
“If I’m not dead, then am I dying?”
“MAYBE. IT HAS YET TO BE DECIDED.”
“What about God? I thought that He controlled everything.”
“HE DOES. BUT HERE THERE IS ALWAYS FREE WILL AND THEREFORE A CHOICE.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t know why I’m here or what place this even is! I’m so confused!”
With these words she collapsed back onto the floor and cried. The ticking of the clock was growing unbearable. It not only grinded its way into her head, but her whole body. She felt the rhythm of her breath in time to the ticking. She didn’t understand. If she wasn’t dying what need was there for the clock? Or the sand? What happened when it hit the black mark on the top? What would happen when the sand ran out? She thought about the words the figure had spoken, or seemed to speak. She never saw its lips move. She looked up at it from her sitting position on the floor. It was looking at her. She was looking at her. It was one of the most eerie feelings she had ever had. Here there’s always free will. Here there’s a choice. Did that mean that she would get to choose if she lived or died? She wanted to live, but as she looked back up at the figure, she realized that it probably wouldn’t be as simple as that. She wished that the ticking would stop.
“THE TICKING CANNOT STOP.”
“You can hear my thoughts?”
“I AM YOU. YOUR THOUGHTS ARE MY THOUGHTS.”
“You frighten me,” she said in a small voice.
“YOU ARE FRIGHTENED OF YOURSELF.”
She bowed her head. It was the truth. She would sit at home and stare in the mirror wishing that her reflection wouldn’t stare back so menacingly. Her reflection taunted her; it knew who she was. It knew that while she looked average on the outside, that on the inside she was a wreck waiting to happen. Her reflection knew how she bottled everything up inside and only occasionally let a little of it out. She remembered once how her art teacher had instructed them to paint self portraits according to how they were feeling right then. She had painted her portrait with a shattered face. Her teacher had asked if she wanted to talk to the counselor, but she had politely refused saying, “I’m not crazy.”
But maybe she was if she was in this place. What was this place that the figure had created? Why was it all grey like an old black and white television show?
“GREY IS THE COLOR INBETWEEN.”
“Inbetween?”
Of course. Grey was between black and white; it was a mixture of the two colors. But was black and white? Good and Evil? Darkness and Light? What did that make grey?
“A BALANCE.”
She hated how the figure was answering her thoughts. Though since the figure kept claiming to be her, then wasn’t she simply answering her own questions? She put her head in her hands. This was too complicated! And the consistent ticking of that infernal clock! It was enough to drive anyone insane!
“Please stop the ticking!”
“IT CANNOT BE STOPPED.”
She was getting very angry. She hated the figure. She hated everything about it. It was taunting her just like her reflection. Like her reflection had been doing before she had taken the lamp from beside her bed and smashed it. She closed her eyes and remembered the shards of glass flying everywhere. She had meant to stop its smirking, but as she stared at the glass littering her room, she saw her reflection by the hundreds in each piece of broken glass. Each one was mocking her. That was when she had reached for her keys to the car.
She looked up at the figure and at the clock ticking away. She looked at all the hourglasses with their grey sand pouring through them. The sounds of the ticks and tocks and the pouring sand was unbearable. She would smash them all.
“THAT CANNOT BE DONE.”
She narrowed her eyes at the figure and leapt from the floor running towards the nearest hourglass. She ripped it from its pedestal and threw it on the ground. It bounced and rolled, but did not break.
“No!”
She ran to each hourglass and tried anyway she could think of to smash them, but they were unbreakable.
She fell to her knees in tears. This place was a nightmare. Was there no escape from all of this? She hated the figure, the clock and the hourglasses. And most of all she hated the fact that she couldn’t do anything about any of it. She felt so trapped. She flashback to the car. She had felt the same way now as she did when she had gotten into it. She remembered when she had thrown it in reverse and revved down her driveway. She had turned and executed a hard stop, thrown it into drive, and sped off down the road towards the setting sun. There had been tears in her eyes then too. She glanced in her rearview mirror and saw her reflection, and saw her reflection’s eyes laughing at her. She had been trying to break the mirror off when she heard the honking and looked up at the truck slamming into her car head on. She remembered that the mirror had broken and shattered. It had been strangely satisfying.
Tick.
Tock.
“YOU ARE WASTING YOUR TIME.”
She looked at the hourglasses around her; they were all almost out of sand. She looked up at the clock; it was only a few ticks from the top mark. She looked up at the figure in front of her. It was smiling, taunting her just like her reflection. She clenched her teeth and leapt on top of the figure. It had put up its arms like it was trying to shield itself, but she grabbed its arms and pushed it to the ground.
The figure hit the ground with a deafening thud and the hourglasses shattered on their pedestals. The sand poured onto the ground. But she was almost oblivious in all that because of the rage that was exploding out of her. She straddled the figure with the intention to strangle it, but the sound of the clock cracking made her look up. The hand was on the top mark and the clock had ceased to tick. Instead of tolling it had cracked. She looked down at the figure. This was pure madness. Why was she wrestling with herself?
“BECAUSE SOMETIMES THAT IS WHAT IT TAKES.”
She looked up at the cracked and silent clock. She looked around her at the busted hourglasses. Everything was still and quiet except for her breathing. She blinked and the figure was standing in front of her again. She stood to her feet and faced it. She looked it straight in the eyes and saw herself looking back.
“I’m not afraid of you anymore.”
“I KNOW.”
“What happens now?”
The figure smiled, raised it arms, pointed its figures to the sky, and brought them down to its sides in a quick and fluid movement. She heard a loud rumble and she saw the clock turn counterclockwise until the top mark and the hand were at the bottom. The hourglasses flew off the ground, piecing themselves back together, the sand flying into the bulbs, and righting themselves on the pedestals. All the sand was once again in the top bulb. She brought her eyes back to the figure that had its head bowed. As the figure raised its head, she saw that it had lost its ghostly pallor and that its lips were pink and it eyes blue. It was smiling. But the smile had lost all the sinister gleam it once had.
“NOW THAT YOU HAVE FACED YOURSELF IT IS TIME TO GO HOME.”
She nodded her head, for once happy about the words that it had spoken. The figure raised its arms again and grasped her shoulders. It smiled and as it gripped her, she felt a shock that radiated from her chest throughout her body. It nearly took her breath away. She looked at the figure and at its smile. She felt another shock, more real than the last one had been and heard voices as if they were traveling over a distance. They were yelling, and there was the noise of sirens. The next shock made her close her eyes and breathe in sharply. When she opened her eyes, she found herself laying on her back and looking up at the sky. It was a dusky black and covered in grey clouds. The air smelled of rain and fire, and the wind was blowing. It blew pieces of her hair in her face.
She looked around her and noticed a ring of people looking at her. There was two paramedics hovering over her and checking her vitals and trying to talk to her. She wanted to sit up, but one of the paramedics pushed her back to the ground when she tried to. He told her to lay still and that she had been very lucky. As they put her on a stretcher and rolled her away she saw how right he had been. Her car was smashed into pieces. There was glass littering the road from her windows. She saw who she assumed was the driver of the truck that had hit her. She was glad to see that he was alright. He might have hit her, but she knew that the accident had been her fault. As she continued to look at him, she noticed off to his side was a figure. The driver was taking no notice of it since he was watching her. As she scanned the scene of the accident she saw that no one was noticing it either. It wore a grey clock and had its hooded head bowed. As she blinked, it disappeared and left a shimmering light in its place. There was a rumbling of thunder and the rain started to fall. As it hit the pavement, it had sounded like sand running through an hourglass, or maybe the ticking of a clock, who would ever know?