The Last Second

Word Count: 672

The Last Second

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
(Image courtesy of KiyaSama)

Rylie frantically typed away at the keyboard of her laptop as the waning scent of tulips hung in the air. The clickety-clak of the myriad of keys created a soothing rhythm which resounded in her soul, reassuring her that all would be well. The CD containing the hacked program she was now working through rested at her elbow beside her cell phone, which had been turned off to deter any interruptions. Her gaze darted quickly to the bottom of the screen where the timer slowly counted down the seconds of her life. Still plenty of time left.

Hung up for a moment in her calculations, Rylie paused and drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly through her mouth as she’d been taught. ‘When the pressure was on, the best thing one could do was breathe,’ they’d told her. The breathing techniques she was employing now were not unlike those taught in birthing classes to calm the would-be mother when labor pains intensified. Compared to what she was facing now, giving birth seemed like a walk in the proverbial park.

Rylie took a sip of her orange juice and intently studied the screen. The glyphs and symbols hung before her eyes, taunting her, mocking her. She knew the answer was there, it was merely a matter of unscrambling the code. Six simple icons arrayed in proper order would unlock the door to indescribable bliss. She was so close she could taste it. At this level, failure was not an option.

The seconds lapsed one by one; time was running out. Feeling panic’s icy grasp begin to clutch at her heart, Rylie snatched up her pad and pen and feverishly scribbled away, presenting and immediately dismissing a multitude of possible solutions. She clicked a button on the mouse-pad to re-align the icons, offering a fresh outlook on the enigma. Two of the arranged symbols sparked a new possibility and Rylie anxiously resumed her rhythmic typing. The steady pulse created by the clicking keys pounded in time with the ticking clock on the wall and again comforted her and boosted her confidence. The solutions flowed freely from her lucid thoughts. Victory would be hers.

Suddenly, she froze. Her mind locked up. She was drawing a blank. The next answer to the puzzle danced menacingly in front of her eyes but her brain could not seem to seize upon it. The rhythm interrupted, her flow crashed like racecar driver into a track wall. She only needed one more answer, one more combination of symbols to claim her prize, and yet she couldn’t find it.

Less than a minute to go.

Overwhelmed by the fear of failure, Rylie’s nimble fingers desperately danced across the plastic cubes of the keyboard, begging for a solution. She found herself moaning softly. Somehow, the sound of her own voice seemed to soothe her. As the seconds passed, her moan grew steadily louder, transforming into a wail and then into an all-out scream as the timer ticked away the last ten seconds. With each elapsed second her speakers chirped a high pitched beep, warning her that time was nearly out. The chirping only added to Rylie’s panic.

Suddenly, she had it. It was so simple, how could she have missed it before? It mattered not, she had the answer. As the timer at the bottom of the screen dramatically chirped away the final seconds, Rylie systematically typed in the correct combination of characters and slammed the enter key.

Success! With one second remaining the timer froze and two dialogue boxes appeared on the display. As she victoriously read the words of the boxes Rylie savored their meaning. The first box, situated in the lower right-hand corner of the screen, read: “Congratulations, you got all the words!” while the second and more important box, centered triumphantly on the screen, read: “You qualify for the next round!”

As her mouse pointer hovered over the blue and yellow button marked, “Go”, Rylie steeled herself for yet another harrowing round.

Text Twist was her favorite game.