Observation

Most wouldn't find a wooden shelf the most comfortable place to nap, but Sketchbook liked it just fine. After a long day of creating as much as she could, it was a relief to finally be able to have some downtime. She didn't let the others create with her anymore; she couldn't after the unfortunate ending to her lesson.

All she wanted was to enlighten them. Okay, she mostly wanted that. However, her frustrations with the trio had gotten the best of her. The lesson had ended horrifyingly, and she hated to admit her involvement in it. But she learned one thing, and that was that she would never let them be creative again. Sure, it was a bit dull not being able to spread the joy of creativity, but she never wanted to repeat that day. Everything in the house was to remain relatively normal, with no more lessons of that kind. Or so she thought.

It was a dull and uninteresting evening. Earlier in the day, she had heard Red Guy and the others ranting and raving about how excited they were for a TV program scheduled for the evening. She had never bothered to learn their names; which was strange, really. They all did live together, after all. Her mind was always focused on other subjects, though. To her they were just Red Guy, Yellow Guy, and Bird Guy.

The living room was very quiet. Only the sound of the static on the TV and the squeaking of Bird Guy's rocking chair could be heard. The three sat around, rarely bothering to even converse with each other. They seemed very impatient for the show to start, as if they've been waiting for decades. Sketchbook was trying to doze off, but creating so much in a day winds you up a bit. She needed time to calm down before she would be able to dream. Her black cover was over her face, shutting out all kinds of light. Clutched in her hand was her lucky pencil, which she never seemed let out of her grasp.

Red Guy's voice interrupted the white noise of the TV and rocking chair. Sketch didn't pay much attention, surely it was nothing important. He seemed to be telling the others to stop fiddling around. Surely their program would begin soon. The former teacher to the trio didn't pay much attention, she could already feel herself fading into the world of dreams. Bird Guy replied with something, sounding a bit distressed. It still wasn't enough to make Sketch want to pay attention, she was almost out. That was until a voice abruptly pulled her out of her state.

"There's always time for a song."

What? The voice sounded nothing like any of the friends she knew. Who was there?

"Wha- ... Who is that?" Red Guy spoke is his quiet, monotone voice as he seemed to read Sketch's mind.

Pulling her cover off of her face slightly, Sketchbook tried not to be noticed as she peeked out to get a look at who had just invaded their house. Her eyes widened. Before her, she spotted a clock swaying back and forth, in the middle of the living room. He had a dark blue face, red clock hands and some yellow markings on his face. Primary colors, she thought. Donning a yellow bow tie and bright red sneakers, he also had lengthy arms and legs, which she envied. Absorbed in her observation of him, it took her a moment before it dawned on her; a song was beginning. This scene was just too familiar. Her next realization just about smacked her in the face, he was familiar too! The wall clock!

Sketchbook was in awe - there was another like her. It was their very own wall clock, too. Why had he never spoken before? She didn't have much time to reflect on this, as the lesson was beginning.

"Time is a tool you can put on the wall, or wear it on your wrist!"

Time? How boring. She thought.

The clock continued his musical lesson on time, singing about schedules, the past, the future. Attentively watching, Sketch needed to see what this guy was all about. Like her, he seemed to be able to change his surroundings quite easily. One moment he had the trio in a bath, the next they were in space. She followed them through all of it, but was never acknowledged. The group was too invested in their lesson to notice her.

Sketch cringed slightly as the clock's voice cracked, unable to reach the high notes. He brought them all to the past, despite stating earlier that time could not go backwards. Normally Sketch would have questioned this contradiction, but she was preoccupied with focusing on the teacher himself. Something about him was just so, so fascinating.

The lesson was progressing, as the clock sang about the moon and the sun, how time flies fast when you're having fun. He seemed to not enjoy seeing others waste time, knocking down a house of cards made by Bird Guy as he ignored the lesson. He has a temper.

Next came the subject of the future and technology. He sang of all the amazing things that could be achieved in the modern day, as the puppets donned futuristic helmets, and him, a pair of sunglasses. Sketchbook was extremely enticed by this branch of the lesson, it seemed very creative. But before she knew it, they were thrown into another scenario. Fish were everywhere in their house. Oh well, she thought. I've seen weirder.

Sketchbook was still hypnotized by all of the aspects of the clock teacher. His appearance, his deep, strict voice. Sure, he wasn't the best singer around - but he seemed to have so much control over his lesson. He was handling it better than she did. His methods were certainly different from hers. She was calm and collected during her lesson, albeit a bit passive aggressive. This new teacher was quick to get snappy with his students, obviously being very hot-tempered, as she had noticed before. He would shut them down quickly - no one was to question his lesson. Sketch could relate, those three were just so awful at being creative.

Bird Guy made the mistake of questioning the clock's lesson, as he began to explain his own theory. He believed that time could possibly not exist, being a concept of human perception. Quickly cutting off the bird, the teacher began to mimic the sound of an obnoxious alarm clock, increasingly getting louder. Cringing and covering her ears, she watched as the teacher approached Yellow Guy. He flinched as blood began to leak out of his ears.

Did - Did he really just do that? This lesson was becoming more and more familiar as it went on. She recalled how her own lesson had ended. This teacher - this clock, he was certainly very different from her, but at the same time he was very similar.

"Look at your hair grow, isn't it strange, how time makes your appearance change?"

Eyes widening, Sketch struggled to muffle her gasp at what began to happen. It started with Yellow Guy, as the length of his blue mohawk began to increase at a rapid rate. The same soon happened to Red Guy's brightly colored locks of hair. Bird Guy stared down at his feathered hand in shock as the flesh began to melt away. They were all rapidly aging. The clock observed each of them, completely unphased. He had an icy, almost angry expression.

Sketchbook trembled at the sound of Red Guy pulling a chunk of rotten flesh from his head. His bright red yarn-like hair had quickly faded to a nasty shade of gray. His friend wasn't doing so well either, as the flesh on his hand quickly dissolved, leaving behind bare bones. Yellow Guy's face had become disfigured with the rapid aging, looking much different from his usual youthful self. Out of the three, he was the only one not silenced by his trauma.

"MAKE IT STOP!"

The former teacher didn't know how he did it - she must have blinked. All of the puppets had suddenly returned to the original state, before they could have rot completely away. A picture of the teacher appeared on their TV. Hanging on the wall, in his original spot, the clock looked on at his students.

"It's out of my hands, I'm only a clock. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be fine. But eventually, everyone runs out of time."

The lesson was completed. With that, the red member of the trio lifted the remote and shut off the TV. All appeared visibly traumatized, the same look they had at the end of Sketchbook's lesson. She peered up to see the clock on the wall, in his original, non-sentiment form. The room was now completely quiet, the only sound being his ticking.

Her cheeks flushed a bit at her uncomfortable realization. She had just enjoyed the show before her. As guilty as she felt, she had to admit it to herself. When she had personally taught the trio, she was surprisingly pleased with the results of trauma. After all, they were the ones who refused to do creativity right. Sometimes, lessons can be harsh. But she was thankful that she got to enlighten them. The right thing had been done.

However, for this case, she was even more thrilled than before. Just the performance overall was enough to impress her. Enlightenment was a wonderful thing. He had managed to make a boring subject very interesting. Her eyebrows furrowed a bit with jealousy. He taught them so much better than she did. Creativity is still a much better subject than time. She told herself.

Disappointed that the lesson was over, Sketchbook glanced at the clock one more time before resting down on the bookshelf again. She needed to know more about him. He was the only other she knew that was like her - a singing object who's purpose is to enlighten others. Everything about him fascinated her. His movements, his methods, his temper, his awful singing. How did he control the conclusion to his lesson so well? Before Sketchbook's lesson concluded, everything just went crazy and out of her control. Maybe... he could teach her.

Sketchbook's cheeks flushed again, a bit more than before. Never before had someone interested her so much. She made a promise to herself that the next morning she would talk to him. She was determined to find out as much as she could about him. As much as he would let her know. Maybe they could even teach the puppets together. She had no idea what the subject would be, though.

The former teacher's breath began to steady as she calmed herself down and tried to finally get the rest she had originally wanted. To the sound of the quiet ticking of the clock, Sketchbook drifted off to sleep.