The Teen Zine 

This isn’t a puzzle, puzzles have rules and make sense and aren’t…whatever this is! And puzzles or tests usually use hourglasses to keep track of the time, not a million black and silver clocks with colored glass! Not even the clocks were normal!

Despite their abnormalities, the clocks continued to tick and tick all around her, counting down, mocking her. She ran and she ran down every hallway, every turn, her short bleached to death hair flowing behind her, no way out. She summoned her fire and shot it out of her hands, everywhere she could, burning her black and white rings in the process. The wooden halls caught on fire, the useless writing on the wall burnt to never be read again, but not the clocks. The clocks wouldn’t dare burn down, they wouldn’t even stop ticking, not even when she knelt down on the floor and screamed and cried and begged, they were too prideful for that.

The fire surrounded her, making the air heavier and heavier. She was an idiot, now she can’t escape even if there was an exit. It’s funny, isn’t it? How she can summon fire but isn’t immune. Well it would be, but nothing’s funny when you’re dead, or whatever her fate is. Might as well give up, the clocks weren’t even visible anymore, they were only perceptible through their terrorizing ticking.

No…one clock was still visible, an enormous clock black clock leaning against the flaming walls with cracked orange glass and silver embellishments that had fallen down in the chaos(without making a sound? How rude). But the flames were caving in, it would not be visible for much longer. Her hands pushed her off the ground and she wobbly stood up, her fiery amber eyes locked on that damned clock.

Her legs were faster than her brain as they sprinted towards the clock. She almost crashed, but before she could she summoned fire at her feet and jumped up. The fire gave her the boost she needed, and she was on top of the clock…this saved her from the fire but what was the point

What’s the better fate? Dying, or…The fire roared from down below and the clocks ticked in unison. She sat down criss-cross applesauce on top of the comically large clock, putting her hands on her patched up jeans. Below was a beautiful sight, the flaming fire sung to her, she’d love to write a song about it. How much time did she have left? She’d check her watch, but she lost it a while ago in the halls, when she was still bright and hopeful. It’s not like it mattered, she had lost her computer and electric guitar(even if she hadn’t, there’s no plug here) too. What’s one supposed to do when their fate approaches with no intention of slowing down? 

Why did she accept it? Since when was she a quitter? She looked around, to the burning walls, lack of vents and doors, and clocks that…were not unmovable. This…this clock fell down. What if…what if there was something behind the clocks?

She set her eyes on the clock higher than the rest, a clock that never fit in. It was white, with not colored but clear glass, and golden embellishments. Why wasn’t that her first idea? And when did that get there? This was a puzzle after all…but how to get up there, it’s across the room.

All the supplies she could’ve used are probably burnt by now, but that’s no place to end the story. That’s boring, people with no hope or fight are boring. She isn’t boring. If she jumped that’d at least be interesting, and her fate would be in her own hands. No, she wants to live. She put her leather sleeves up and broke a piece off the burning wood behind her…how does one jump safely across a flaming pit of fire.

She hit the wood against the silver over and over again, her hands aching, until the fire stopped. Her hands were now burnt, skin somewhat melting, but at least she had a tool. It clacked onto the ground as her hands moved to now take off her leather jacket. She bent down onto the ground and tied each jacket sleeve to opposite ends of the stick. God this was a stupid plan. She stood up, summoned fire at her feet, put one end of the stick in each hand and. Jumped…

…And glided through the air! It worked! It actually worked! She could almost touch the odd clock, until she fell. No, no, no, not now, NOT YET. 

She held onto a piece of flaming wood, and then another when that one was about to give out, and then another, and another, and another. The skin of her hands were melting, and her clothes were on fire, her hair probably next, but it didn’t matter. Escaping was all that mattered. She climbed and climbed until she could grab the clock, and she did, and she threw it on the ground. There was a vent. (There’s always a vent)

She was about to fall, again, when she held onto the grey vent opening. Finally, something solid to hold onto. Her other hand latched onto the vent as well, and eventually she was fully in the vent, looking out to the outside on the other side.

It was beautiful out there, the stars shined brighter than any flame and the moon was full. Her adrenaline started to wear out, and she started to feel the full pain and fatigue and her body was under. But it was okay. The feeling was welcome, it meant she was still here. Annalise started to climb out, ready to go back to her life, her music, her family–

One unbearable louder than the others tick, it was halloween. She was too late. Her body was dragged back into the room by an unknown force and her limbs began to contort. She tried to fight it, summon her fire, anything, anything at all, but nothing worked. She couldn’t fight it.

She became a clock, decorating the room and ticking in unison like all the others, only left with her scrambled thoughts. The flaming walls burnt her, but it couldn’t move. None of them could.