The Last 24 Hours


The numbers were displayed wrong, yet my brain told me they were right. I hummed, pulled a face and shook the clock. It was in the shape of a tennis ball, but made of hard plastic with some blue oily liquid inside. The clock mechanism and display were in another ball which floated freely in the blue oil sphere. The numbers spun around then settled in front of me again; 11:11.

‘No!’ I said too loudly that my cat shot me an evil look.

I stuck my tongue out at Misty and watched her curl back to sleep in her hammock. I settled back in my beanbag bed and shook the ball clock again. The numbers spun around, blurring before becoming stable. The same numbers flashed by.

‘It’s broken,’ I uttered and placed it back on my bedside table, ‘How could I have lost twenty-four hours?’

Misty made a small snorting sound.

I looked at her and decided there was no point trying to talk to her. Instead, I searched though my blankets and dug out my screen. Waking it up, I watched the home menu and spotted the clock at the top of the list. The clock was 11:12. Scrolling on to the interactive network, I waited for the pages to load and looked at the latest newsfeed.

To my shock most of the headlines read: World Lost 24 Hours. I skimmed down, not really reading further then the top line. Finally at the end was an advert. I fingers automatically began sliding back up. God. Everyone seemed to be talking about and my doubts about my time problems begin to feel bigger.

Maybe it was all just an adverting stunt, like Cola’s We’ve Officially Discovered Aliens. I shook my head and decided to see what my friends made of this. Looking through ConnectX, I saw that a few had comment saying they believed. A few others claimed it was a lie. My shoulders sagged and I flexed my fingers.

We’d probably never know. The government was so tight lipped about everything and everyone knew it was going to collapse soon. Maybe they’d fixed this stunt? I rested the screen against my knees and looked at Misty. She was sleeping and didn’t seem effected. Animals couldn’t really tell the passage of hours though.

I got up and went to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I tried to notice anything different about my eighteen year old male body. Nothing looked different, though my hair needed cutting. I ran my fingers through it and tried to flatten it down. I got some hair gel and did it that way instead. There really was nothing different.

I went back to bed and arranged the blankets and pillows. Was it really so bad? I wondered. What did twenty-four hours matter in a life time? Granted a lot could happen, but the loss of it? How does that work? I leant back and looked at the ceiling. I guess we wouldn’t know until it happened.

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