In a small, secluded village nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, an old clock tower stood majestically atop the village hall. For generations, the clock had dictated the rhythm of life in Oakhaven. It struck the hours, marked the beginning and end of the workday, and called the villagers together for celebrations and meetings. The people of Oakhaven trusted the clock implicitly; it was the heartbeat of their community.
On a sunny Friday morning, precisely October 10, 2025, the clock suddenly stopped. Its large hands were frozen at two minutes to twelve. Initially, the villagers paid little attention. Perhaps it was a malfunction, or a spring that was too tight. The village blacksmith, a skilled man with golden hands, would surely fix it quickly. But as the hours passed and the clock remained stubbornly still, an uneasy feeling began to creep through Oakhaven.
The silence of the clock was deafening, an ominous void that drowned out the normally lively village sounds. Children no longer played boisterously in the streets, adults’ conversations quieted, and even the birds seemed to fall silent. The absence of the familiar ticking and chimes created a strange disorientation. Without the clock, time itself seemed to have come to a standstill in Oakhaven.
The true reason for the clock’s stoppage turned out to be far more sinister than a simple malfunction. Thousands of kilometers away, in a remote corner of the world, a nuclear power plant had failed. A series of human errors, combined with unforeseen technical defects, led to a catastrophic meltdown. The explosion was colossal, the impact unimaginable. A wave of electromagnetic pulse (EMP) shot into the atmosphere, spreading with the speed of light. This pulse, invisible but deadly to technology, crippled all electronics in its path. Clocks, phones, computers, cars – everything ceased to function.
Oakhaven, though far removed from the disaster, did not escape the consequences of the EMP. The old clock tower, mechanical in nature but with an electronic striking mechanism, was one of its many victims. It was one of the first signs of the approaching catastrophe that would engulf the world.
In the days that followed, without contact with the outside world and with the clock persistently stuck at two minutes to twelve, the truth slowly began to dawn on Oakhaven. Rumours of strange lights on the horizon and the absence of telecommunications fueled the fear. The silence of the clock, which had at first merely been uncomfortable, now became a chilling reminder of the fragility of their existence. Time had not stopped, but the world around them had irrevocably changed. The clock of Oakhaven remained frozen, an eternal monument to the moment the world’s time broke beyond repair.
Categorie: fiction
The Fall of President “King” Kingston
The courtroom was eerily silent as Judge Eleanor Vance delivered her verdict. “President Kingston,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “you have been found guilty of multiple counts of abuse of power, obstruction of justice, and violation of your oath of office.”Elias Kingston, once the booming, inimitable leader of the United States, stood there, his face a mask of disbelief. His famous blonde hair seemed duller under the harsh courtroom lights, and the characteristic orange glow of his skin appeared to have faded. For years, he had governed the country with a mix of bravado, controversial pronouncements, and an unprecedented loyalty from his supporters. He had called himself “King” Kingston, and many believed him.The charges had slowly but surely stacked up. It started with suggestions that he had attempted to influence election results, followed by stories of using federal resources for personal gain. Then came the testimony of former cabinet members who spoke of constant pressure to investigate and prosecute his political opponents. The final straw was the evidence that he had deployed a secret government operation to intimidate a judge handling a case against him.When the word “imprisonment” was uttered, Kingston’s lip trembled. The man accustomed to cheers, luxury, and unconditional admiration now faced a reality he had never thought possible. The crowd outside the courthouse was divided. On one side stood his most loyal followers, shouting for justice and claiming this was a political witch hunt. On the other, people cheered, relieved that the rule of law had ultimately prevailed.The ride to the federal prison was a surreal experience for Kingston. No presidential escort, no cheering crowds. Only the bare walls of a prison van, with handcuffs tight around his wrists. Once inside, his tailored suit was replaced by a plain orange prison jumpsuit. His signature—the red tie, the perfectly styled hair—everything was taken from him.The first few days were the hardest. Kingston, accustomed to a life of control and authority, was now entirely at the mercy of prison guards. His cell was small, stark, and filled with the unpleasant scent of disinfectant. The nights were filled with the sound of slamming doors and distant cries, a stark contrast to the quiet, secure nights in the White House.His diet consisted of standard prison food, far removed from the culinary delights he was used to. The daily routine was monotonous: waking at the crack of dawn, meals in the communal dining hall where he was stared at by other inmates, and limited outdoor time in a small, walled courtyard.Media attention remained immense. Every move of the former president was closely monitored. Commentators debated the implications of his imprisonment for American democracy. Some saw it as proof that no one was above the law, not even the most powerful man in the country. Others warned of the political division this would cause.Kingston himself publicly maintained his innocence, claiming to be a victim of a corrupt state. But within the walls of his cell, reality slowly began to sink in. Without the constant stream of media, without the daily praise from his supporters, he was forced to confront what he had done. The power he so cherished had been stripped from him, and with it, the illusion of invincibility.Years later, after his release, Elias Kingston was a broken man. The former bravado had vanished, replaced by a certain melancholy. He wrote a memoir, not to prove his innocence, but to reflect on the dangers of unchecked power and the responsibility that comes with it. It was a modest book, far removed from his earlier, bombastic style. The story of “King” Kingston, the president who ended up in prison, became a cautionary tale in American history books, a reminder of the fragile balance between power and justice.
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