The very first bit of my NaNoWriMo book, Number252: The Novel. Enjoy!

before

Your time is fleeting, futile. And what do you do with it? You waste it, spending every precious minute you have performing useless tasks.

Do you understand the urgency of your death? Or perhaps I should put it under more focus? Do you realize that Marc could die today, this very moment, and you would be able to do nothing about it?

Time… What is time if you spend it so foolishly?

336:00:01 remain.

Avidron awoke in a cold sweat. A dense blackness filled his house and the earth outside, no stars lighting the sea of ink called sky. He glanced at his alarm clock, and discovered it blinking 12:00 endlessly at him. He realised there had been a power outage in the night. His stomach churned, and he swallowed several times. The dream had been so real, the cynical voice speaking to him as if in the same room. He tossed the covers aside and strode out of his room, feeling the stifling chill of moisture on his back. 

The light of the bathroom blinded him as he entered, and he squinted painfully for a few seconds before his eyes adjusted. He pushed his damp, black hair off of his forehead, turning on the water. Avidron cupped his hands and put them under the faucet, frigid water stinging them as it sloshed over his palms and into the sink. He splashed his face with the liquid ice, warily lifting his eyes to the mirror to face the man staring back at him, those frosted steel irises piercing his gaze.

Avidron sighed, diverting his gaze away from himself to out the window. A soft and rainy light danced through the night, pulling away the veil of darkness to reveal clouds beneath. Wind howled about the trees, slashing itself against his house and back out into the open fields around him. Fitting, Avidron thought, smiling grimly to his reflection.