The Lost Hours

By T.M.B. Foulk
Word count: About 1200 words
Summary: A story about an insomniac’s desire to find sleep in a seemingly endless night.

Melodic chimes resonate from a chorus of chrome-rimmed clocks mounted in every room. The final tolls of the temporal hivemind that infest the house sing in an inauspicious harmony. In each identical face, bold blue numbers suspended in darkness display the time.

10:00pm

Jason sets down his book and rubs his eyes, which are permanently rimmed with dark circles. A message flashes on his phone from the Never-Miss-A-Minute clock system: *Time For Bed*. He dismisses the message leaving only the clock’s interface, disabling all other features, and cutting him off to the outside world until morning, when the wake-up alarm will sound.

Jason swallows the dregs of his now tepid chamomile tea and shuffles into his room. He pulls the covers up to his chin to combat the early November chill that seeps through the walls. The blue light emanating from the clock above his door shines down on him and makes the surrounding darkness even darker.

10:08pm

Jason curls around his pillow, turning his back to the clock. He stares at his shadow on the wall until he slips into that familiar trance, neither awake nor asleep, a creeping warmth, weightlessness crawling down his limbs. And then his room fades, replaced with nonsensical visions of fleeting dreams.

***

Jason startles awake. The room is still dark except for the glow of the clock.

1:05am

He tosses and turns, trying to recapture blissful unconsciousness. This is the time he’s come to think of as the lost hours. The time that stretches from the deepest parts of night and the earliest of morning, when the world moves around him. Until eventually, dawn comes and he will roll out of bed, expected to forget those long sleepless hours.

He pulls the covers over his head, but he still feels the clock’s face looming over him, counting the minutes. His Aunt Mary had gifted him the Never-Miss-A-Minute System after his mother made a passing comment about his sleep troubles. His Aunt believes that society is regressing into a primal slothfulness as a result of wall-mounted clocks going out of fashion. She claims that the Never-Miss-A-Minute system is the solution: ‘revolutionizing organization by perfecting a classic technology’ and is quick to tout the long list of successful and influential people who endorse the Never-Miss-A-Minute system.

The system itself consists of an interconnected network of atomic clocks which can be mounted wherever they’re needed: around the home, in the car, in a cubicle at work. It integrates with his phone and automatically sets alarms from reminders in his calendar so that he always knows when he is running late. And it calculates his ideal ‘sleep’ and ‘wake-up’ times based on his schedule: every evening at ten and every morning at seven, even weekends because ‘consistency is important’. The basic package comes with three clocks, but his aunt also bought him the expansion pack, which comes with five extra clocks and the ability to connect with any household smart appliances, such as an oven, washing machine, or doorbell. Or it would, if he had any, which he doesn’t.

Jason wriggles under the warm sheets to alleviate the unease that festers in his bones. The world is too quiet, too still, and getting much too warm. The sheets are constricting around him, choking him! He throws them off and takes a breath of frigid air. Surely, another hour or two must have passed by now.

1:13am

Relenting, Jason hoists himself out of bed, the weight of tiredness drags at him with false promises. He shambles from room to room, each one is preserved as they were in the moments before bed. His clothes sit in the basket on top of the dryer, cold and waiting to be put away. His dining table is a mess of pens and unopened mail and scraps of paper with scribblings that he has not yet added to his calendar: ‘organize meeting to discuss new launch features’ and ‘call mom about Thanksgiving appetizers’.  Everywhere he goes, he is watched by the clocks.

1:32am

Jason settles down in his armchair to read. The words jumble on the page beneath his wilting eyes. Every so often, he glances at the clock on the wall.

1:41am

1:44am

1:45am

Endless hours become more endless! Why does physics rearrange itself in the middle of the night? Then a thought: what if this night never passes? It is a ridiculous thought, of course, the night plays tricks on the mind, turns the normal into the uncanny. He calms himself and turns back to his book.

Then, at last!

1:59am

One hour will pass to the next! A promise the night is creeping towards its end. He watches it, unblinking, eyes growing raw and dry. Finally, he relents and blinks. The clock takes that moment to execute its cruel joke.

1:00am

Jason blinks again and rubs his eyes. He checks the clocks in the kitchen. The bedroom. His phone. He tries to override the Never-Miss-A-Minute system’s lockout feature but is unsuccessful. It doesn’t matter. He knows what it would say.

1:01am

His chest tightens and he can hear his heart beating in his ears, counting the seconds. His mind races to find some explanation. Had he mistaken the time? No! He’d been watching it all night! That’s when he realized… He’d done it! He had fallen asleep! This was no more than an insipid nightmare.

And with that revelation, perhaps now, he could change his dream to something more pleasant and wake in the morning refreshed. He closes his eyes, imagines he is at the beach, lying in the sun. He can almost feel the warmth and smell the ocean breeze. He opens his eyes.

1:08am

He tries again. Something more simple. He imagines only the first light of morning coming through the window. He opens his eyes.

1:09am

The numbers sear into his eyes as the room closes in around him. He’d fallen asleep only to wake up into some other world’s lost hours! Stretching on for ever and ever! Now he wants nothing more than to get back to the real world, the waking world, where time moves forward at one second per second and eternity will come to an end. He would gladly face the unforgiving day if only it would come.

Jason stumbles into the bathroom. He washes his face with cold water and slaps his cheeks. The chill droplets roll down his neck and into his shirt as he stands back up. His reflection in the mirror has taken on a nightmarish form. Familiar and yet grotesque, with bruises under his red eyes and his skin hanging loose from the bone like melting wax. Looming over his shoulder is the reflection of the clock.

1:15am

With a shout, Jason runs out of the house, still in his pajamas. The cold pavement is abrasive under his bare feet. All the neighboring houses are dark. Of course they are. He is the only one here in this world. He knows this in the same way that all information is apparent to a dreamer. A biting autumn wind blows through the empty street and Jason runs with it, eastward, in hopes of finding the dawn.

***

Back at his silent house, the clocks continue counting off the minutes. Until…

1:55am

1:56am

1:57am

1:58am

1:59am

2:00am

It is a cruel joke played on the insomniac to have to turn the clocks back, returning another lost hour to the never-ending night.

***

A note:This story Originally posted in 2023 in past tense, but after trying to update it for a project, I ended up changing the tense to present. You can see the original below.

Melodic chimes resonated from the chorus of chrome-rimmed clocks mounted in every room. The final tolls of the temporal hivemind that had infested the house created an inauspicious harmony. Each identical face, with bold blue numbers suspended in darkness, displayed the time.

10:00pm

Jason set down his book and rubbed his eyes, permanently rimmed with dark circles. A message flashed on his phone from the Never-Miss-A-Minute-Clock-System: Time For Bed. He dismissed the message leaving only the clock’s display and disabling all other features, cutting him off to the outside world, until the wake-up alarm sounded in the morning.

Jason swallowed the last few gulps of his now tepid chamomile tea and shuffled into his room. He pulled the covers up to his chin to combat the early November chill that seeped through the walls. The blue light that emanated from the clock above his door shone down on him and made the surrounding darkness even darker.

10:08pm

Turning his back to the clock, Jason curled around his pillow and stared at his shadow on the wall until he slipped into that familiar trance, neither awake nor asleep, a warm sensation of weightlessness running down his limbs until his room faded away, replaced with nonsensical visions of fleeting dreams.

***

Jason awoke. The room was still dark except for the light of the clock.

1:05am

He tossed and turned, trying to recapture that blissful unconsciousness. This was the time he’d come to think of as the lost hours, the time that stretched from the deepest parts of night and the earliest of morning, when the world moved around him. Then dawn would come and he would roll out of bed, greeted by the sun, expected to forget those sleepless hours.

He pulled the covers over his head but he could still feel the clock’s face looming over him, counting the minutes. His Aunt Mary had gifted him the Never-Miss-A-Minute System after his mother had made a passing comment about his sleep troubles. 

His aunt claimed that society was regressing into a primal slothfulness as a result of wall mounted clocks going out of fashion. The Never-Miss-A-Minute system was supposed to be the answer to this, revolutionizing organization by perfecting a classic technology. She touted a long list of influential people who endorsed the Never-Miss-A-Minute system. 

The system itself consisted of an interconnected network of atomic clocks which he could mount wherever he needed them: around his home, his car, and his cubicle at the office. It all hooked up to his phone, automatically setting reminders from his calendar so that he always knew when he was running late. And, of course, it set an ideal ‘sleep’ and ‘wake-up’ alarms based on his schedule: every evening at ten and every morning at seven, even weekends because apparently consistency was more important than actually feeling rested should he get to sleep. The original package came with three clocks but his aunt also bought him the expansion pack which came with five extra clocks and the ability to hook up with smart appliances.

Jason wriggled under the warm sheets to alleviate the unease that festered in his bones. The world was too quiet, too still, and getting much too warm, the sheets constricting around him, choking him! He threw them off and took a breath of frigid air. Surely, another hour or two must have passed by now.

1:13am

Relenting, Jason hoisted himself out of bed, the weight of tiredness dragging him down with false promises. He shambled from room to room, each preserved as they were in the moments before bed. His clothes still sat in the basket on top of the dryer, waiting to be put away, long since gone cold. His desk, a mess of pens and unopened mail and scribblings that said things like: ‘organize meeting to discuss new launch features’ and ‘call mom about Thanksgiving’.  Everywhere he went, he was watched by the clocks.

1:32am

Jason settled down in his armchair to read. The words jumbled on the page beneath his wilting eyes. Every so often, he would glance at the clock.

1:41am

1:44am

1:45am

Endless hours become more endless! Why did physics rearrange itself in the middle of the night? Then a thought: what if this night never passed? It was ridiculous, of course, the night played tricks on the mind, turned the normal into the uncanny. He turned back to his book.

Then, at last!

1:59am

One hour would pass to the next! A promise the night was creeping towards its end. He watched it, unblinking, eyes growing raw and dry. Finally, he relented and blinked. The clock took that moment to execute its cruel joke.

1:00am

Jason blinked. Rubbed his eyes. He checked the clocks in the kitchen, the bedroom, his phone.

1:01am

Had he mistaken the time? No! He’d been watching it all night! His chest tightened and the room was closing in around him. His mind raced to find some explanation. That’s when he realized, he had done it! He had fallen asleep! This was no more than an insipid nightmare. Perhaps now, he could change his dream to something more pleasant and wake in the morning refreshed. He closed his eyes, imagined he was at the beach, lying in the sun. He could almost feel the warmth, smell the sea breeze. He opened his eyes.

1:08am

Perhaps he was thinking too big. He simply imagined the first light of morning coming through the window. He opened his eyes.

1:09am

The numbers burned into his eyes. His heart pounded. He’d fallen asleep only to wake up into some other world’s lost hours! Stretching on for ever and ever! He wanted to get back to the real world, the waking world, where time moved forward at one second per second and eternity would come to an end. He would gladly face the unforgiving day if only it would come.

Jason stumbled into the bathroom. He washed his face with cold water and slapped his cheeks. The chill droplets rolled down his neck and into his shirt as he stood back up. His reflection in the mirror took on a nightmarish for. Familiar and yet grotesque, with bruises under his red eyes and his skin hanging loose from the bone like melting wax. Looming over his shoulder was the reflection of the clock.

1:15am

With a shout, Jason ran out of the house, still in his pajamas. The cold pavement was abrasive under his bare feet. All the neighboring houses were dark. Of course they were. He was the only one here in this world. He knew this in the same way that all information becomes apparent in a dream to the dreamer. A biting autumn wind blew through the empty street and Jason ran with it, eastward, in hopes of finding the dawn.

Back at his silent house, the clocks continued counting off the minutes. Until…

1:55am

1:56am

1:57am

1:58am

1:59am

2:00am

It is a cruel joke played on the insomniac to have to turn the clocks back, returning another lost hour to the never-ending night.