What happens when a clock that used to hang at the wall stops working, and is thrown away? And why do we feel compelled to shake a matchbox, even if we do not intend to use it? In this work you will not find a definitive answer to these questions, but I invite you to listen nonetheless, for a quiet exploration of the persistent habits of our memory, of what remains after people and objects disappear from our life, how the sound of their lives lingers long after they are gone.

I created this story for Small Audio Art, a community created by Phoebe McIndoe with artists and audio makers looking for togetherness in a scattered world. The prompt for this audio was 'clock'.

Image reworkingof Photo by Abiodun Ageh on Unsplash

A haunting monologue, a power struggle between two vastly different entities.

The speaker (a woman trapped in a toxic relationship?) reveals pain and vulnerability, shattered by constant attacks. But amidst the despair, a chilling undercurrent of defiance emerges. The speaker unveils a disturbing truth: a force to be reckoned with, a presence that has infiltrated their tormentor's very being.

As the monologue progresses, the listener's perspective shifts, drawn in by the speaker's menacing words and the hint of a power far beyond their initial fragility.

The final revelation questions the true nature of the dominance and the unsettling reality that unfolds.

The narrative explores the complex emotions of returning to your homeland to see, possibly for the last time, an ageing parent.

The salty air, the rocking of the ferry, all becomes sensory details that evoke the physical experience of the journey. Yet, beneath the surface lies a deeper turmoil, a haunting question about goodbyes and the fragility of life.