On Sunday! See you on Sunday! I await you all. He called out, his voice brimming with unrestrained cheer.
What’s happening on Sunday? Someone would ask him with a mocking smile.
Don’t you know? I’m getting married on Sunday! he replied joyfully, and he continued striding through the streets, proclaiming his happiness to all who would listen.
This man once had a specific name, but the elders had forgotten it, and the younger never learned it. He was distinguished, however, by one peculiar trait: he always carried a clock around his neck. Its hands were eternally arrested at the hour of six. This particular characteristic overshadowed all the others. Thus, he became known as “The Man with the Frozen Clock”.
On most days -every day but Sunday- he roamed the streets with an air of unflagging cheerfulness. His voice was brimming with cordiality as he invited everybody to partake in his joy. His words tumbled out in an unbroken stream, his movements restless, were dictated by his internal rhythm. His slender limbs stretched and recoiled without pause. He was overstimulated, almost dancing.
That Sunday, he rose early. With great care, he removed the clock from his neck, placing it gently upon the table before starting his morning routine. He lingered over his coffee in the living room, waiting for the time to pass. He was observing the light streaming through the balcony doors: how it illuminated tiny details of small objects he had never noticed before, reflected through the polished surfaces, and filled the room with little rainbows. Yet it was the warmth that he cherished most, its soothing heat seeping into his weary body. Reclining on the floor, he savored the dilation of his pores as they absorbed the heat. Nothing disturbed him. Today is the great day, he thought, as he drifted into a serene slumber.
As the last rays of light faded, a tremor of dismay gripped him. The joyous expression gave way to despair. Nothing had happened. Nothing would happen, he realized with crushing certainty.
Piece by piece, he unraveled his thoughts, unearthing the delusions within until he dismantled the whole world he had meticulously constructed. Finally, he stood alone in the barren expanse of his own mind. His emerging thoughts burned with intensity. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would burst. Under the burden of the awareness that nothing was happening, fissures began to split the very foundations of his mind. Through these cracks, insanity rushed out and possessed every corner of his mind. The very end of his awareness marked the very beginning of his madness.
The following day, he awoke upon the floor. His body aching and wearied by the night. And yet, his spirits were buoyant. Physical decline is a sign of health, he thought to console himself. It’s Monday!
He took care of himself and his household. He fastened the stopped clock back around his neck and he ventured once more into the streets. The great day for him was approaching, and he invited everyone to celebrate with him.
On Sunday! See you on Sunday! I await you all! He called out, his voice brimming with unrestrained cheer.
This work was previously published in Greek
Image: Antique clock face with a silver dial, roman numerals and ornate hands. From pixabay.com
literally stories 
Georgia
Such a wonderful little thing. He shows such determination that you want the Big Day to actually come. Then again, as is so often the case, maybe it is better as a dream.
Leila
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What an unusual piece. I found it sad from the readers point of view but the main character lives much of his time in joy and which of us would not like to do that. Maybe one day his dreams will come true – thank you – dd
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Very nice! A well written mix of poignancy and joyfulness – hard to pull off but this does it really well.
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A surreal and imaginative portrayal of madness, denial and grief. Sadly, it’s not only the clock that can’t move ahead.
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A touching read and a nice take on the myth of renewal (unusually, for the MC myth takes place on Monday mornings). I enjoyed it, thank you.
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Georgia
I was intrigued by your listing of your influences as existentialism and the absurd.
I read the story before I read your bio and I was already thinking that this piece reminded me of a parable by someone like Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Sartre, Camus or Kafka, or maybe Borges or Samuel Beckett. Not in a rip-off kind of way at all, but in a new, original, updated, unique kind of way that’s thought provoking and emotionally engaging (both) at the same time.
You definitely managed to explore aspects of human complexity and philosophical inquiry in this piece! The focus and intensity of the writing, and the way it’s all left hanging in a mysterious vortex, or whirlwind, are unusual in a very good way, interesting, inspiring, individuated (one of the key aspects of existentialism), even incredible. Also, there are zero “holes” in this story, no places where it loses its way or becomes lame, tame or uncertain. That is a rare story-telling gift. Every word says what it’s supposed to say, it seems. Camus himself also wrote with this kind of spare, poetic, driven intensity.
Thanks for engaging with this kind of material and Bravo at every level for achieving success in this!!! The world needs more, much more, of this kind of thinking and writing!!! So keep on going!!!…thanks…
Dale
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Put in mind of the story about two boys. On the same day, one woke up with a whole room of wonderful toys. A few hours later the boy had broken all the toys and was depressed. Second boy woke up to a room full of manure. His parents found him digging happily through the manure. When asked why the second boy said “There must be wonder things at the bottom.” Our attitude is affected by mindset and expectations. Clock boy expected wonders and found them (most days). They are there if we look.
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Should have said th second boy expected a pony under all the horse crap.
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Hi Georgia,
I loved the tone that you got throughout.
Is it a bad thing if some sort of delusion or fantasy helps us through six out of seven days?? (I wonder if that is the significance of the clock???)
One day in reality against the expectations and happiness of the rest of the week may not be a bad thing!!!
A wonderfully thought provoking piece of work!!
Hugh
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As others have said there is joy and sadness in this wonderfully odd, almost fairytale like story.
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Thank you very much for taking the time to read it and for your generosity in sharing your thoughts. They are deeply valuable.
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