Mr. Chron’s mind travelled to the past, to when he was a gentleman of importance. When he stepped into the room, his arrival was marked by pomp and created quite a ripple. At Mr. Chron’s word, eager mothers would hush their little ones, while the gentlemen would set down their tea and get to pursuits of more imperative nature.
With automation, his role became more ceremonial. Yet heads turned, eyes shone, and little ones clapped in greeting.
Now, he’s just window dressing. He’s been staring at the room in silence, waiting for someone to wonder why he won’t retire to his chambers any more.
Its been a rather long wait.
In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge of 14 September 2018, based on a photo contributed by J Hardy Carroll.
Wonderful! At first I thought he was simply and elderly gentleman in times gone by, so to speak, but what a very nice chronology of this neglected personage you have crafted! Wonder how (or when) he will wind up?
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Glad you liked it. Thanks for commenting.
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Poor Mr Chron, trapped for eternity!
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A man bound by time existing outside time… or so it feels. Nicely written.
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Thank you
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Such a sad story, perfectly delivered.
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Thanks
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Poor Mr Chron! Someone should wind him up again. Lovely take on the photo prompt.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thank you
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Clever piece, Mr Chron is stuck half in or is he half out? Wind it up someone and let Mr Chron sing again!
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Aw, so sad. But a great piece.
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Thank you
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I hope someone comes along to restore Mr Chron. Anyone got a key? Sad but lovely too.
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Oh, Mr. Chron many still love you and honor your importance. Nicely done.
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Thank you
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