Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick... tock... The Clock continues on. Every second. Every minute. Every hour. The Clock continues to tick. Endlessly without mercy, the Clock continues to tick. The gears are smooth. The hands move swift. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick... tock... Was there a time when it stopped? The shifting of past. The turning of the present. The calling of the future. They continue forth undisturbed. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick... tock... How many times have I died? How many times have I killed? How many times have I loved? Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick... tock... Have my eyes become dried? Do my tears no longer come? Where have I lost my way? Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick... tock... That sound. The constant tick of that constant Clock. Why do you continue oh cursed thing? Time has certainly forsaken me. Leaving me raw. Poking and prodding with that costant tick and that constant tock. For I am lost in that void. That endless sensation. The continuance of things left broken. The same fate that I am entangled with. Entwined within its webs and weaves so deeply, to see no beginning nor end. Oh fate who locked me. Oh time who has eroded me. Now fate has pushed me forth once more. From the dark void and into the light. To repeat what I have done uncountable times before. Once again I will meet the one. Once again I shall feel them once more. For what other horrors can I commit than to do what I have done to the one I wish to see. For each moment is precious. For each second is bliss. But for each end is the same. There will be blood. There will be once again the void. For this is the curse I bear. This is the curse we bear. Forever locked in an eternal struggle. To capture what was lost. To lose what was most true. I tried to hate. I tried to change. But it was futile. The flow of fate was too strong. The erosion of time took my will. But once again... There is a chance. Perhaps a small chance. A chance for something to end. To break that tick and the tock. To cut the webs of fate. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick... tock... the sound of that awful clock. The morning shadows danced across the bed like wonderful little figures. They danced to a tune known only to them. When the dance finished. Silent applause was given and the shadows flew away, letting in the morning light. He awoke without much rest. He dreamed of strange things of blackness consuming all. of clocks ticking endlessly. There was even a marionette dancing by strings from unknown masters. For a moment he believed he was that puppet, dancing to strange tunes, unable to control himself. This thought had a real possibility but he dismissed it immediately as he looked out into the deep sky. The vastness of the world seemed so small to him. As if no matter how large, he would still continue to walk the same roads, not knowing about the countless mysteries beyond. He shuddered at the thought. He shook away the strange melancholy of his morning daze. It was another day. Perhaps a life changing one. He had often sought change but his motivation was always hidden beneath something greater. He arose from his bed, sweat gliding down from his frame. He wondered if he was sweating from the heat or perhaps it was caused by his vivid dreams. He chuckled to no particular amusement. There is too much thinking and not enough doing. He got dressed, pulling on a nearby shirt which was most likely clean enough. When he finished doing his morning preparations, he sat down to a his breakfast. The taste was nostalgic. It included memories of childhood but also ones of long distant lives. With his breakfast finished, he left his house, feeling something guiding him like a gentle hand pushing against his back, giving nudges of direction. He felt entirely content and satisfied. Henry walked on, not entirely sure where he was going.