Backwards and Forwards...

Backwards and forwards...

Backwards and forwards…

The grandfather clock ticked quickly, the gold shining from inside the clean glass. It was ten forty-five at night; the moon was radiating soft, pale light in the dark sky and stars shone intensely. As Roy McCleven looked out at the world around from his beautifully crafted marble balcony, he thought he beautiful the view was.

Roy turned and put his cigar in his mouth. The room before him was grand; a great rug covered most of the wooden floorboards; an armchair faced the ancient grandfather clock; the priceless chandalier gave off faint lights from the ceiling and there were a few tables dotted around the edge of the room, most of them with sweetly smelling flowers in neat vases resting on top, others with dusty books that had rarely ever been opened.

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

Roy sat down in the armchair; it seemed to suit his contorted back well. He raised his free hand and clicked his fingers, shouting, “Jennifer! Oh, Jennifer!”

The beautiful woman ran into the room hurriedly from down the hall, her heels banging heavily against the floor. She stood by the door. Her left eye twitched for a moment before she spoke. “Yes, sir?” she asked warmly. She had a generally British accent, with a hint of Russian.

“Could I get a… hot chocolate, please?” Roy answered. His voice was dry and sore; he was, after all, an aging man of fifty-five that liked to smoke cigars and argue with the Manchester County Council. He had once had a seat in that group, a position which was call by many a highest honour, but Roy didn’t think so. He had always had a hatred for politics and felt war was the best option.

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

Jennifer nodded her head and left the room, her heels once again banging down hard on the floor. Roy sighed. It was a shame he had never been able to hire staff that couldn’t make a racket when he gave them a very simple instruction. He was a rich man and expected the best, but rarely received it.

He put the cigar in his mouth again and gave a little puff. Smoke came from the end of it in small, grey doses. There was nothing but the faint tick tock of the grandfather clock. It was now ten fifty and it was getting late. Roy considered, and decided he would finish his hot chocolate and then get to bed for a good nights sleep.

He stood up and was ready to leave, just when he heard a faint creak from behind. He turned his head and gasped. He was ready to have a heart attack and dropped his cigar. The burning tip of it hit the carpet and began to char the orange and yellow patterns adorned onto the material.

“Hello, Roy.”

“YOU!” Roy screamed. The door that led into the hallway slammed shut and a gust of wind flew into the room from the balcony. The man opposite Roy kicked the balcony doors shut briskly with great force and gave a malicious smile.

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

“It has been a very long time, indeed.” He drew a pistol of a starnge design and raised it with perfect aim; it was facing Roy’s neck directly. There was an air of uneasiness and neither men spoke for a moment, or maybe a minute, or it could have been an hour… the heat of the second made it feel so. They could have been a brilliant painting; both standing still as statues, facial expressions blank.

“But I thought I’d never see you again…” Roy murmured faintly.

“Many people think that. None of them get it right; especially you, Roy. That is why it is time to finish what you started forty years ago, when you were a mere boy. I assume you have deep regets now, don’t you?” He paused for a moment. “No matter. I will bring honour upon my family once again.”

Roy gulped and took a deep breath. His watery eyes flickered from side to side, peering for a way out of this man from his past… he didn’t understand anything at all at the moment, except that he could die any moment… it would take one movement of a finger and his life would end.

“Any last words, Roy McCleven?”

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

“I’m sorry for what I did… but that was generations ago… can you not have forgiveness? Can we not forget all of this?” Roy pleaded, but he knew nothing would work. He was stalling for time, waiting for Jennifer to arrive. Any moment now…

“No. We can’t. You should have thought about that before you did what you did.”

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

“But I am truly sorry…”

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards went the grandfather clock…

“You should have thought about that.”

There was a bang on the door… and when Roy turned his head a tear rolled down his scarlet cheek. The door was locked from the inside and a dart for it would mean death. His back was weak and stiff, he could never make it over there so fast…

“Good bye, Roy.”

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

There was a scream; not a human scream, the scream of a gun. It echoed forever and ever and seemed eternal in the heads of everyone alive… Roy’s eyes were wide and glazed over with tears. He stood rooted to the spot for a moment – just for a moment – and then he fell backwards. A single stream of blood rolled from his neck, and then it got bigger and bigger and soon the rug was soaked with the stuff…

Backwards and forwards…

Backwards and forwards…

Jennifer barged in but the being was gone.

Backwards and forwards…

The clock chimed eleven.

Backwards and forwards…