Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The autonomous sounds of the typewriter drilled into the mind of Dana. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Her eyes were weary from the illuminated ivory pages. She slaved onwards, forcing her hands into the usual, disfigured motion. Click. Clack. She pressed into the keys, her flesh grating against the aged circular pads. She could feel the pressure of the spring as it fought and wrenched against her power. Click. Clack. She shook her head, pushing the specters of her inner being out. She would not sub come to such fantasies now. She was near the end. Click. Clack. Her head began to spin and the sounds danced freely between her ears, seducing her mind with their siren song, lulling her into a trance. Click. Clack. Her goal was lost, she was merely a shell now. Her mind- empty. Her hands followed a predetermined path, tracing the keys as one would examine a map. It was both a subconscious and conscious task, though Dana could no longer proceed. Click. Clack. Her eyes glazed over with a dark haze, her pupils dilating to the extreme. Her face grew pale. Click Clack. Her raven hair, surrounding the ghastly exterior of her inner self, shuttered with every motion, appearing as a vibrating haze about her figure. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click. Clack. The final period placed, Dana dropped her head, her body still with dread. Her eyes were wide open, reading the words upon the page before her. Her hands dropped from the typewriter, to her sides. The bell had rung- had it not? Her ten minutes were up. As she was collected from her seat, her mind repeated the final sentence of the cursed child-like story she had bore. "Click. Clack. Click. Clack."