Division Clock

What will be my fate?
Speak! Whoever you might be.
So desperately I yearned to fly,
But apart my wings you tore.
Why do you desire my flesh and blood?

Why now must I live?
Truly it is better up there…To swim across sky…
Answer! Whoever you might be.

Tiredness takes rule,
To sleepiness my body yields.
So many things I had time for,
So many things I could have done,
But apart my wings you tore.

A thousand fires blaze inside my head.
A half hour is all that’s left – If I only knew for what.
Maybe they will notice us,
And out of curiosity,
The doors will open to those rooms,
Where seals are placed on memories.

-E. S.

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Division Clock is a story about a tormented mind…longing for peace.

“A young man battling with severe depression, loss of memory and gradual onset of madness races to find a stolen magical clock and reset time to save humanity from an evil power. Trapped in his own crazed visions, the line between reality and dreams is gradually blurred, leaving him struggling to overcome an adverse battle for identity, perception and restoration of sanity.”

Division Clock is a surreal insight into the workings of the mind of a protagonist who has lost all hope. If you are looking for something deep, dark and imaginative, then this story is for you. If you prefer to read something that questions all your assumptions of how and where you expect a story to lead you, this is for you. The writing aims to reflect the kaleidoscopic stream of thoughts of a person lost in their own melancholia, bordering on downright insanity.

…it is a story seeking an answer.

Warning from the author: If you are looking for some light reading, this might not be a book for you. If you are looking for a critical insight into the mind of a person suffering from depression, then this is for you.

There is no standard plot formula and no predictability, there is only a surreal and ink-like mental representation of the memories, feelings and beliefs that drive a person’s suffering and hold back their acceptance of their life, self-image and search for love.

I can only offer a glimpse into the darkness of a person’s profound melancholia. What you make of it is entirely up to you…

Here there is no hope, there is no logic, there is only a deep, dark abyss.

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“…they dispersed instantly, sprinting with supernatural speed into all directions across the hills and beyond, disappearing entirely from view.

The poppy girl strayed near the edge of the pool and her flower trail started to mushroom around it, multiplying at an exponential rate and growing to mammoth size proportions. Despite the vigorous attempts of her dark, winding spirit to snatch as many gigantic specimens as possible, it could not keep up with their rapid profusion and exhausted itself.

Withdrawing it distracted its appetite by reshaping its host’s hairstyle incessantly. The girl’s craving weakened sharply and, turning around to look at her companion with a questioning peek and drowsy red eyes, dived into the pool unexpectedly, her flowers dissolving instantly in an eruption of squealing shadows.”

Chapter 3, “The Poppy Flower Girl”