The Alarm Clock

Filipe Silva

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Transcript

00:00A man's alarm went off at 3.33am every night. He finally unplugged it. The next night it rang

00:05again without power. The first time it happened, Jacob dismissed it as a simple glitch, a technological

00:10hiccup. He was a man of logic, a programmer who spent his days untangling knots of code.

00:16A digital clock, even an old one, was just a circuit board and a display. He had set the

00:20alarm for 6.30am, but for some reason blared to life at the ungodly hour of 3.33am. The piercing

00:26digital screech sliced through his sleep, leaving his heart hammering against his ribs. He fumbled

00:31for the snooze button, squinted at the glowing red numbers, and reset it. Strange but not

00:35impossible, these things happened. The next night, however, it did it again. Same time,

00:40same jarring, electronic wail. By the fourth night, Jacob was no longer thinking it was

00:45a glitch. A pattern was emerging, a rigid and unnatural repetition that defied the random

00:50chaos of a malfunctioning device. His frustration morphed into a methodical investigation. He

00:55tried everything his logical mind could conjure. He reset the clock to factory settings, a digital

01:00exorcism of sorts. It still went off at 3.33am. He changed the alarm time to noon, to midnight,

01:06two times that didn't even exist on the clock's interface. The next morning, 3.33am, arrived

01:12with its punctual shrieking announcement. He even opened the back, checking for any loose

01:16wires or dust that might be shorting the circuit. Everything was pristine, a perfectly ordinary

01:21piece of outdated technology. The clock was a gift from his grandmother, a relic from the

01:2590s he'd kept for sentimental reasons. Now, its presence on his nightstand felt less like

01:30a memento and more like a menace. The number itself, 3.33, began to take on a sinister

01:35quality. A digital sigil burned into the fabric of his nights. He saw it everywhere, on license

01:40plates, on receipts, the time on his phone when he glanced at it randomly. The fifth night

01:45brought a new level of dread. As the inevitable alarm approached, Jacob found himself lying awake,

01:50staring at the ceiling, his body tense. He was waiting for it. The anticipation was worse

01:55than the sound itself. It felt like an appointment he was being forced to keep with something unseen.

01:59When the numbers on the display finally flipped to 3.33, he didn't hear the familiar electronic

02:04screech. Instead, a new sound filled the room. It was a low, static hum, a sound like a radio

02:10tuned between stations, but woven within the static was something else, a whisper. It was faint,

02:14distorted, a digital ghost in the machine. He couldn't make out the words, but the cadence

02:18was rhythmic, repetitive, like a chant. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.

02:23This was no longer about faulty wiring. This was something else entirely. Something was using

02:28the clock, speaking through it. Driven by a surge of fear and anger, Jacob lunged from his bed,

02:33ripped the clock's cord from the wall outlet, and threw it into a drawer. The silence that followed

02:38was heavy, absolute. For the first time in a week, he slept through the night, a deep, dreamless slumber.

02:43He woke up feeling refreshed. The morning sun, a welcome bomb. The incident seemed like a bad dream,

02:49a product of stress and an overactive imagination. He went about his day, the memory of the whispering

02:54static fading with each passing hour. He decided to throw the clock away that evening, to be done

02:59with it for good. The sense of control was liberating. He was the one in charge, not some piece of plastic

03:04and wires. That night, he went to bed feeling a profound sense of peace. The house was quiet,

03:10the drawer remained shut. There was no power, no circuit, no way for the machine to act on its own.

03:15He drifted off to sleep, confident the ordeal was over. But then, a sound pulled him from the

03:20depths of his slumber. It was a sound he now knew intimately, a piercing, digital screech. His eyes

03:25snapped open. The room was pitch black, but the sound was undeniably real, coming from the direction

03:30of his dresser, and through the shrieking alarm, another sound emerged, clearer this time than it had

03:35ever been. A digital whisper, no longer distorted by static, spoke from the powerless clock inside

03:40the drawer. It repeated a single, chilling phrase over and over, in perfect, unnatural rhythm. A

03:46man's alarm went off at 3.33 a.m. every night. He finally unplugged it. The next night it rang again

03:51without power.

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