Stopped Time Novels & Stories

"Wow! I love that statement, one has to know the right moment to stop, stopping at the right time defines everything. And I think that statement does not apply to this situation alone, it applies to every area of life. Stopping at the wrong time can destroy everything that one worked hard for, even if you are a minute late, that one minute can destroy or shake up the foundation of what took you like forever to build," Amelia said. "Yeah that's absolutely right, there is nothing more true than what you just finished saying," Alicia said.

Dean tried to resist the sound of the alarm, but the ringing of the phone made Dean nervous inhibition. He couldn't stand it but his eyes were still closed. His hand groped the phone according to the source of the sound. Until the second bell rang, he found out. Open an eye. Can't believe it. It is now five hours and seven minutes. So the first bell rang, at four-twenty, he just opened his eye and ignored the ringing bell, the bell went off by itself. Looking outside, it was pitch black, around two or three o'clock in the city. In the mountains, near dawn, the temperature drops quite lowly.

Who is it? ( Riley) It's me, Riley. (Amy) Oh, please come in. {Riley enters Amy's room} How are you feeling? ( Amy) Am okay. Thanks for the help. if don't mind but what time is it? (Riley) It's after midnight. (Amy) I see...um...can you stay with me until I fall asleep please, am a bit scared of staying by myself at this moment. ( Riley) Sure whatever you need. A few moments later she fell asleep.

Until one day, the time insisted him to stop. ~ E N D ~

Not giving him an opportunity to speak, or stop me. ##################

I ended the call and sat there for three seconds with the phone in my hand and the particular silence of someone who has just run out of time for a problem they've been managing one day at a time for five years. Then I stood up. Packed the bag. Kept moving, because stopping wasn't something I could afford right now. It never really had been.

When Angela and Leon arrived at the registry office, it was exactly five thirty. The staff there respected work hours to the minute, not a second off. The instant the second hand pointed to twelve, the mouse clicked with a soft beep and the computer shut down. No matter how loudly Angela shouted “Wait,” it was useless. She could only watch as the screen faded from Windows’ blue skies and green fields into a black shutdown screen. Angela stopped in the lobby and did not move forward again.

The tip of the mother-of-pearl pen hit the glass face of the monitor at exactly twenty-three hours fifty-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. The impact did not make a shatter. It sounded like a heavy iron door slamming shut underwater, a thud that sent a shockwave running up Elara's arm. The pen did not break. The glowing red command line under the glass did not split either. It just stopped working. The digital clock froze, the number warping into a jagged character that flashed between red and black.

Frederico Grey Volkov I stopped looking at the clock. The numbers had become a taunt — 11:47 p.m. turning into 11:52, then 12:03. She wasn’t coming. Or perhaps she was testing me. Either way, the waiting had become unbearable. I stood up, the whiskey glass still in my hand, and walked to the master bathroom.

For the first time in years, I stopped waiting. It happened gradually. It started so gradually that I didn't notice it at first. One day I stopped checking the clock every fifteen minutes. The next day I stopped texting Ryan to ask when he would be home. A few days later, I stopped leaving dinner in the oven for him. Then I stopped falling asleep on the couch waiting for the sound of his car pulling into the driveway. I simply stopped. And surprisingly, the world didn't end. Ryan still came home late. Our house was still quiet.