Rapture Watch: 6:00 A.M.
Twelve hours remain.
I awoke this morning not with rapture, but Christmas on my mind. Dickens to be exact.
Scrooge…resolved to lie awake until the hour was past; and, considering that he could no more go to sleep than go to Heaven, this was perhaps the wisest resolution in his power.
The quarter was so long, that he was more than once convinced he must have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear.
“A quarter past,” said Scrooge, counting.
“Half past!” said Scrooge.
“A quarter to it,” said Scrooge.
“The hour itself,” said Scrooge, triumphantly, “and nothing else!”
Rapture Watch: 11:47 A.M.
The hands of an old wall clock are wonderful to watch. The seconds click by with a quick forward thrust that give off the slightest backward recoil before jumping to the next moment. Inside it’s mechanical heart whirls around with an existential detachment to the problems it causes and solves. Time changes everything.
Rapture Watch: 2:05 P.M.
The world appears verdant today. The trees are once again full of spring leaves and the sky is covered in gray; perfect for rapture.
Rapture Watch: 3:01 P.M.
Nothing from the East Coast yet.
Rapture Watch: 3:13 P.M.
Conflicting reports from the east. No news of colossal earthquakes yet, but could be massive cover-up by secular government.
Rapture Watch: 4:42 P.M.
Lost track of time! Relieved to find there’s still one hour and eighteen minutes left. Still no word from the east coast. Disconcerting to say the least.
Rapture Watch: 5:23 P.M.
All the people outside on 39th going about their day like nothing is happening. The fools!
Rapture Watch: 5:56 P.M.
And here it is, almost the hour of six. Why do I feel such dread in the pit of my stomach? Could the old stories have planted the small seeds of doubt that even now grow within me? Surely it will be sweet relief as the hour passes, when the hour passes.
Rapture Watch: 5:58 P.M.
Do I have time to use the restroom? I did not think this through.
Rapture Watch: 5:59 P.M.
The second hand moves impossibly slow. Thirty seconds remain. I should have put in fresh batteries. Fifteen seconds left. I wonder if I should stand up? Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one and it’s 6 p.m.!
Nothing has happened. Nothing, but wait the clock on the microwave says 5:59 P.M.! Which one is correct? Has the time not yet come? There’s no seconds ticking away on the microwave. How will I know how much time is left? What if this whole thing is just a