Clockwork Orange Novels & Stories

After two long weeks of recovery and two long weeks of Xander's boring company, I got back to my usual routine. Waking up, having a long cold shower, wearing something dark that matches my personality and showing up at LAPD if I didn't have any interesting engagement. Boring? You'll get used to it. "Good to have you back, sunshine." Marlon acknowledged as he appeared through the door to his office, a file in hand.

I drove the charred, black-emerald key into the very center of the clock’s face, right where the hands met. "I AM THE ETERNAL GLITCH!" I roared, the White Light of the Origin erupting from my skin not as a sun, but as a Stateless Void. The reaction was a Chronological Seizure. The gears of the bone-tower shrieked, their prehistoric teeth grinding against the "Static" of my silence. The pendulum of the Liquidator stalled in mid-air, the blue starlight shattering into useless sparks of data. The bruised violet sky didn't turn gold; it turned a deep, unmoving Indigo-Emerald, the color of a time that refused to pass.

It was the clock on the nightstand. But it wasn't moving forward. The second hand was twitching. Vibrating. Struggling to move past the second. And then, it stopped. Silence. Elion held his breath. And then, with a loud click, the hand moved. Backward. One second. And then forward again. Elion stared at the clock. "Seven," he whispered. And he knew, with a terrible certainty, that the countdown had begun.

Not the man who wakes up screaming, haunted by dreams of a woman he's never met but somehow loves with his entire soul. No one here would believe that the poised, powerful Orion Lockwood is slowly being undone by visions of green eyes and whispered promises from a thousand years ago. . However, Orion Lockwood remained unaware that the green eyes from his haunting dreams were observing him on a television screen thousands of miles away from New York City.

She hoped to find solace in work, a distraction from the unnerving events at home. But the moment she stepped into her office, her blood ran cold. The large digital clock on her wall, usually set to local time, flashed erratically, the numbers shifting and twisting into unreadable symbols. “What the hell?” she whispered, moving closer. Just then, the clock went dark, the lights flickering off for a split second before returning to normal. Ava’s heart pounded in her chest. Was she losing her mind? Orion, watching from the corner of the hallway, leaned lazily against a nearby wall, arms folded. “Effective, isn’t it?” he whispered to himself, barely audible.

I jumped into other pages where I could get information because I'm too sleepy already to browse the other pages. The 106th page tackles all about the blank clock birthmarks. The absence of a date of love on the right palm indicates success. Having no clock birthmarks on the left palm means unpredictable death. While the absence of two clock birthmarks on the two palms indicates freedom. It is stated that here in our world, there are only 2 out of 10 people who are born with the same case as mine. I suddenly felt happy upon the mysterious disappearance of my two clock birthmarks. It means that I am free to do anything I want and fate has no control to interfere with my life.

For some reason, Orion suddenly had a bad feeling. The ticking clock seemed to echo right through Orion's whole body. Meanwhile, the Chamber of Commerce members were too nervous to speak. Right when the clock struck the hour, someone shouted, "It's one o'clock! The market's open, Mr. Draycott!" Orion immediately opened the website and refreshed the page to check the stock market. Several Chamber members gathered around Orion's desk.

Date = 22 June Two more days snaked past Place = San Francisco (Grimms — at Paws and Claws) A new hangout spot POV - Enrique 7:03 PM. The wall clock hangs like a relic, its wooden frame darkened with age and polish, every nick and scratch a story whispered through generations. Roman numerals, faded but stubborn, cling to the weathered face. The hands move with a faint, uneven tick, as though time itself limps along.

No matter how long it took. After all, it was the least I could do. *** The alarm clock blared out a continuous order, "Get up! Get up! Get up!" Rhythmic and annoying. I hit it as hard as I could, not caring if it broke, and sat up, knowing it was time to get ready for work. Groaning, I swung my legs off the side of the bed and sat up. I knew better than to lay back down or hit the snooze. I was likely not to wake up.

I just laughed, wiping my tears off. *** 2 hours earlier... I arrived at the warehouse. But there's something is off. The door is open, inviting... I kicked the door to the warehouse, both gun in hands. My eyes scanning the room. There's nothing here except boxes, boxes, and more boxes. Behind those boxes, I found a desk. A light shone from above, like guiding me to it. There was an envelope on it. More specifically, it's an orange envelope. My favorite color. And my father's...