Glitch (The Write Awards 2013 Winner)

Glitch - Chapter 1

 4 years, 2 months, 6 days, 1 hour, 45 minutes and 37 seconds

In the silence of the night Freya Elton held a false sense of the future within her own timid grasp. Contained within the ornate casing of a pocket watch, the slender hands ticked away towards the precise moment her life would begin. The constant tick was the only noise to rival her steady breaths as the rest of the house fell soundless in their sleep.

But Freya could not join them. The ticking kept her awake. It often did from time to time, when her mind became too laden with heavy thoughts to slip away. The constant click of cogs repeating the same revolution only served as a reminder of the time slipping through her fingers. She sat upright upon her bed, wrapped in the warmth of the sheets, regarding the pocket watch.

The intricate pattern on the casing had been selected, by her parents, on the day of her birth. A digital chip had been placed within the mechanism to bind her to the timer as required by law. And yet nothing about the watch struck her as personal as she scrutinised every curve of the pattern. Near identical copies could be found in the hands of any other person. She traced a finger over the most prominent swirl etched onto the exterior and noted the dull sheen of the metal through the abundance of scratches.

In her childhood the watch had shone a brilliant gold. But Freya had never taken care of it. It was an instrument of unnerving constraint that deserved no care. The scratches were a feeble ghost of dissent; the only thing she had to show for her contempt towards the policies of the Government. Half shaded by darkness it somehow seemed all the more meagre.

4 years, 2 months, 6 days, 1 hour, 45 minutes and 19 seconds

With a slight frown she watched the seconds flutter passed. A countdown until the very moment she would meet the 'love of her life'. In that instant her entire life would change direction and there was nothing she could do to alter the outcome. Her future crept closer with each breath. The pocket watch merely counted down the moment until she became ensnared. That was just the way things worked. Wait patiently for the timer to tick to zero, meet the one you are destined to be with, fall in love and build a life together. No deviation, no change and no escape.

4 years, 2 months, 6 days, 1 hour, 44 minutes and 52 seconds

He would most likely appear in the usual cliché. Clutching an elaborate bouquet of flowers, wearing an expensive suit, sporting a new haircut and armed with the pre-planned, flirtatious ice breaker burning on the tongue with its acid sweetness. The popular puns to do with timing and countdowns made her stomach churn. Freya often practiced a smile in the mirror to mask the grimace of disgust when her time came.

First encounters had very little variation between them. And after such an insignificant pivot of events she would be expected to sign her life over. Her last name would be changed to his, it would be her duty to relocate her life to match his and every major decision would be his call. It made the union of two strangers easier to gift one with the authority. By law the husband controlled the fate of the wife. Some men took the law more seriously than others. It was luck of the draw.

She had always placed such respect in her father for that reason. The memories she held of him were growing increasingly frayed. In much the same way a favourite pair of jeans lose colour with the frequency of use; the scenes and recollections concerning her father were becoming vague narrations of a rapidly fading past. But Freya recalled the tone of voice he often adopted with her mother. A soft hush of words that fell on her ears only. The outside world was only party to the fricatives that required the emphasis of volume. He never shouted, never excluded her from important decisions and, most importantly, Freya's mother always seemed to be the only one on the playground undecorated by festering hues of purples and blacks. Her mother had certainly won the lottery. It didn't seem logical for lightning to strike twice in the family.

4 years, 2 months, 6 days, 1 hour, 44 minutes and 35 seconds

With a determined snap she closed the watch and placed it down upon her bedside table. Freya's hand flitted across to the book with an ever present space beside the lamp. Always easily within her reach. The pages had grown yellow with age, furling at the corners. A warming scent of dust haunted the fragile pages. The book was a rare heirloom inherited amongst her family. It served as a record of a lost time when love was spontaneous and it was a truth universally acknowledged that a heroine initially detested the love of her life. And in this book she held the secret. Technically it was illegal. The Government didn’t like you knowing the way things were before the countdown. But they had always managed to keep it hidden. And because of it she knew that she would never experience spontaneity in romance. Her story had already been scripted by another hand. It wasn’t meant to be that way.

On many occasions she had considered throwing the watch away and allowing herself the freedom to fall in love without the dictation of the timer. But they would find her and she would be punished. Losing the timer was a criminal offence. Besides, even in its grotesque unnaturalness, the watch provoked an addictive curiosity. Her hand was always reluctantly reaching for the watch.

Once more a desire to witness the numbers click backwards swept over her. The side effect of a strange human condition to revel in your own misery. She unlocked the latch to reveal the display once more. The sight she was greeted with made her heart judder with a cold fear. She had gotten her wish. The incessant ticking hand had come to an end. But the silence that fell in its wake was not nearly as refreshing as she had hoped. There was nothing to distract her from sleep now. Nothing but the squirming uncertainty of an interrupted future.

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