Gradual Vision
A stopwatch has some interesting properties...
He rolled the wad of gum in his mouth as he leaned back in a soft velvet recliner. Two glasses of red wine were set on a silver platter on the table in front of him. He gingerly pushed one of the buttons located on the arm rest and the plasma screen television came to life. Images flickered across the screen as he suppressed a yawn. He glanced over at the fire. It crackled softly as it illuminated the fireplace. The picture of his magnificent father hung on the wall above it and he could only watch in amazement at the successful life he lived and.
The alarm clock abruptly started to beep. Too lazy to get up, his arm slammed on the desk by his bed. He shifted his arm over and hit the desk. He missed again. He sighed and turned his head over. The clock read 7:01. He finally managed to hit the snooze button and the beeping stopped. This part of his apartment was abnormally quiet. A whisper could wake up the neighbors. He glanced over at the stopwatch on the desk by the clock.
He hated it. He didn't even know why he had it. It was the last thing his father gave him before he passed away. He hated his father. He hated the watch. He'd planned on getting rid of it but he hasn't so far. It had been in his possession for nearly twelve years. And it's always sat there as if glued to the desk. He would get rid of it today.
With much effort, he managed to roll out of bed and fall on the floor with a dull thump. Still draped in his blanket, he peeled it off himself and tossed it onto the bed. He grasped the edges of the mattress and pulled himself up. His elbows were propped on the bed and his eyes blinked rapidly. He reached over behind his computer and opened the blinds. Light flooded his room and he sat on his bed. He glanced at the clock again. 7:02. The start of another day.
Jeremy Reichman was an average guy. No. Not average. Less than average would be more fitting. He lived in a reeking apartment by himself and he paid rent by selling the junk that accumulated in the corner of his room at the pawn shop. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and snatched the stopwatch from the table. It's all his fault, thought Jeremy. James Reichman lost his entire fortune because he was too much of a stupid piece of trash to look after himself.
Still in his pajamas, he stepped outside in his old sneakers, his heels pressing down the back the back of his shoes. He reached the dump outside and looked at the watch one more time. It never ceased to make that annoying tick-tick-tick-tick sound. He'd owned it for twelve years. Twelve. Since the first time he'd had it, he never touched it. Strangely enough, dust never accumulated on its surface and its brass luster never faded. The chain swayed as he turned it over. He clicked the button at the top. Nothing happened. He rolled his eyes and proceeded to toss it into the garbage so he could go grab some eggs with a side of bacon. None of which happened.
The moment the stopwatch left his hand, the watch was floating in midair, the chain slowly trailing after it. At first he didn't know what he was seeing, and then he looked around. The cars infesting the intersection slowed to the speed of a caterpillar. He looked up. The birds in the air appeared to be frozen in place. He looked back at the watch. It was moving extremely slowly downwards.
He grabbed the chain between two fingers and gently pulled it over to him. It was as if he were in some sort of zero gravity environment. The watch itself dropped down and slowly moved towards him. He let go of the chain and enclosed his hand around the watch. He closed his eyes and counted to three and pressed the button on the top. An explosion of sound suddenly filled his ears as the cars zoomed past, dust kicking off as the tires spun. Reichman didn't know what to think or do. Something like this was far beyond his imagination. Then, at that moment, he knew exactly what to do.
The alarm clock abruptly started to beep. Too lazy to get up, his arm slammed on the desk by his bed. He shifted his arm over and hit the desk. He missed again. He sighed and turned his head over. The clock read 7:01. He finally managed to hit the snooze button and the beeping stopped. This part of his apartment was abnormally quiet. A whisper could wake up the neighbors. He glanced over at the stopwatch on the desk by the clock.
He hated it. He didn't even know why he had it. It was the last thing his father gave him before he passed away. He hated his father. He hated the watch. He'd planned on getting rid of it but he hasn't so far. It had been in his possession for nearly twelve years. And it's always sat there as if glued to the desk. He would get rid of it today.
With much effort, he managed to roll out of bed and fall on the floor with a dull thump. Still draped in his blanket, he peeled it off himself and tossed it onto the bed. He grasped the edges of the mattress and pulled himself up. His elbows were propped on the bed and his eyes blinked rapidly. He reached over behind his computer and opened the blinds. Light flooded his room and he sat on his bed. He glanced at the clock again. 7:02. The start of another day.
Jeremy Reichman was an average guy. No. Not average. Less than average would be more fitting. He lived in a reeking apartment by himself and he paid rent by selling the junk that accumulated in the corner of his room at the pawn shop. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and snatched the stopwatch from the table. It's all his fault, thought Jeremy. James Reichman lost his entire fortune because he was too much of a stupid piece of trash to look after himself.
Still in his pajamas, he stepped outside in his old sneakers, his heels pressing down the back the back of his shoes. He reached the dump outside and looked at the watch one more time. It never ceased to make that annoying tick-tick-tick-tick sound. He'd owned it for twelve years. Twelve. Since the first time he'd had it, he never touched it. Strangely enough, dust never accumulated on its surface and its brass luster never faded. The chain swayed as he turned it over. He clicked the button at the top. Nothing happened. He rolled his eyes and proceeded to toss it into the garbage so he could go grab some eggs with a side of bacon. None of which happened.
The moment the stopwatch left his hand, the watch was floating in midair, the chain slowly trailing after it. At first he didn't know what he was seeing, and then he looked around. The cars infesting the intersection slowed to the speed of a caterpillar. He looked up. The birds in the air appeared to be frozen in place. He looked back at the watch. It was moving extremely slowly downwards.
He grabbed the chain between two fingers and gently pulled it over to him. It was as if he were in some sort of zero gravity environment. The watch itself dropped down and slowly moved towards him. He let go of the chain and enclosed his hand around the watch. He closed his eyes and counted to three and pressed the button on the top. An explosion of sound suddenly filled his ears as the cars zoomed past, dust kicking off as the tires spun. Reichman didn't know what to think or do. Something like this was far beyond his imagination. Then, at that moment, he knew exactly what to do.
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