The night was cold. Not to the point of freezing, but it was indeed crisp. 

Sikta was walking on a paved path next to an empty road, the streetlights above the only illumination on that cloudy night. In his hand, he held a shopping bag. In that bag was a little miniature clock that he had taken an interest in—purely an impulse buy, which was not the best decision in hindsight, considering his tight finances.

He arrived at the sign that signalled the bus stop and sat down on a plastic bench covered with advertising. Some kind of realty group had their big heads smiling at him as he leaned back and looked up to the sky.

Taking a deep breath, he brought his head back down to his bag. He reached inside and pulled out the miniature clock. All the gears of the clock were visible beneath a glass exterior. It looked like some good work, although the gears could have used some cleaning. But he could do that when he got back home.

He continued to fiddle with the clock, trying to figure out how to open the metal hatch on the bottom that would allow him access to the gears. Realizing this would take some tools and more time, he set the clock back in its bag.

Looking at the watch on his wrist, he frowned. The hands read 2 o’clock. The bus should have been here!

“Fuck me.”

Sikta hated when things were late. He also hated when things were early. On-time was what he liked, preferably to the second. But he understood most people don't count clocks to the seconds. And that was why he waited, all the while staring at his watch.

When the hands signalled a minute had passed, he threw his arms up in the air.

“Fuck you, bus. Fuck you.”

Deciding he had nothing better to do, he counted down the seconds, keeping a rhythm by tapping his foot.

At 478 seconds, he heard something.

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It sounded like some sort of suction. Like an extremely quiet vacuum tube. But then the sound of air being pulled became louder and louder. 

Sikta finally stood up and looked around. He could see a small pinprick of light on the other side of the bench. 

“What the fuck?”

He walked around to the other side of the bench and kneeled down on one knee to try and get a better look at the small pinprick of light. Squinting his eyes, he reached out a finger and touched it.

What a mistake that was.

It felt like a thousand needles pricked his fingertip as it was sucked into seemingly nothing. 

Before Sikta could even scream, the hole suddenly expanded. With that expansion came an extreme pull. Before he knew it, his feet were leaving the ground, and the hole, that was now behind him, was closing.

Multi-coloured light flashed past as he barreled down a tunnel. Extreme pain assaulted his body from every direction. Three points were particularly painful. His brain felt like it was being hollowed out as something new grew from the center. It felt like someone had driven a sword into the back of his neck and split his spine in half, then poured ice water into the split. And finally, it felt like he was being repeatedly punched in his gut with metal gauntlets.

He endured that pain, screaming until his lungs were hoarse and he could scream no more. 

Finally, the pain stopped. Only to be replaced with a fresh new sensation. It felt like someone had branded the back of his neck with red hot metal. Then from that brand, roots grew up into his brain, down along his spine, and then to behind his navel. The roots grew slowly, taking their sweet time crawling underneath his skin, through muscle, and along bone until they found whatever they were looking for.

When the pain stopped for a second time, Sikta held his breath, prepared for another wave of fresh new horrors. When no such pain occurred, he took a deep breath in. 

What he didn't notice was that there was a peculiar being perched on his lips, looking into his mouth with curiosity. This being was golden bronze in colour, with branching golden line-thin horns and one large diamond-shaped eye. It swam through space with a series of thin thread-like tentacles moving in a circular motion, its body shaped like a clock hand. And this being was pulled into Siktas mouth by the pull of air from the breath.

Sikta held his throat as he felt like he had sucked in a bug or something. But then the odd feeling faded away.

The next moment, he was suddenly out of the tunnel and once again standing on solid ground. Sikta stood there for a few seconds, breathing rapidly, unable to take in the surroundings after being temporarily blinded by the tunnels flashing colours. Then, his eyes rolled up into his head, and his body collapsed to the ground as he finally, blessedly, lost consciousness.