In the dim corner of a cracked house
Hung a peculiar painting,
Its canvas depicting a world
Where time melted away.
Gold-plated clocks draped
Over an isolated coast.
Driven by restlessness and curiosity,
A curious girl with dark hair, a stark contrast against her fair skin,
Caressed the distorted numbers
On a clock within the painting
And was drawn into its surreal landscape.
Here, time was warped;
The sky swirled in perpetual hues
Of muted blues and yellows.
Every inch of the brown earth lay flat,
Featureless, devoid of life.
In the suffocating silence,
Contorted figures crept towards her,
Eliciting a gasp of fear.
From the depths of darkness,
The lifeless whites of eyes twitch,
Their unblinking stares
Fixed on the child’s every quiver.
As the girl circled deeper,
The ticking of the clocks ceased,
Their sinister faces melting away.
Venturing further, the child fell
Into an eerie calm
Pressed heavily against her chest.
There was no key, no door, no escape.
Only an endless labyrinth
Of twisted time and bent reality,
Spiraling into nothing.
Desperation clawed at her,
Her eyes darting frantically in search of a way out,
Seeking the path back,
Only to be greeted by more clocks,
More grotesque distortions of time.
The realization washed over
Her pale face—
The painting was not a passage,
But a prison.
Forever caught in a realm
Where time ceased to exist,
Forever lurking
Just beyond the frame.
inspired by The Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dalí