Clocking Off by Jason Darrell

Darkness. Shit! He'd overslept! 

Lethargy magically banished, he clocked the alarm: 13:15 

Relief. He'd clock in at 14:00, yet. 

Why, then, darkness? 

Slowly, a memory, then intuition: last night's homeward journey, inconspicuous skittering; they were all connected! 

Through bleary eyes and a smudged window, fog. Fog!? 

Spectacles, focus: multitudinous bulbous, black splodges trampolined on and bungeed from interwoven grey clouds pegging every spire. 

Wait. Those splodges had legs, eyes, eight of each. 

What was that ticking? 

Two 24-inch mandibles trickled into view beneath upstairs' balcony floor, the splodge they belonged to fastidiously following. 

He'd not fancied work today, anyway. 

Published in Issue #23

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