TICK-TOCK - By Rosie Lee

Written By: Rosie Lee

Category: Script

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Rosie Lee, under the writing name TICK-TOCK, presents a captivating script that delves into a dystopian future. This engaging piece is part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, showcasing creative expressions from around the world. "TICK-TOCK" invites readers into a world where time is a visible and constant companion, a theme that raises existential questions about life, society, and the human condition.

About the Work

In "TICK-TOCK," Rosie Lee crafts a gripping narrative set against the backdrop of a bustling metropolis, where time is quite literally ticking away. The script explores themes of mortality, societal pressure, and the human response to the relentless march of time. With vivid imagery and a compelling protagonist, the piece questions what it means to live when every moment is accounted for, and what happens when the system dictating this time begins to unravel.

TICK-TOCK

Original Submission by Rosie Lee

TICK-TOCK

by Rosie lee

ACT ONE

Scene 1

SETTING: [The setting is a dystopian, sprawling metropolitan city. Towering skyscrapers stretch high into the sky, their reflective glass surfaces shimmering in the sunlight. Bright, flashing neon signs in every imaginable color flicker across the buildings, advertising everything from luxury hotels to strange products, each designed to catch the eye. There’s a strange mix of hurried, purposeful steps and leisurely strolls, as though everyone is caught between the weight of time and the desire to savor the fleeting moments of life. Massive, sleek vehicles zip by in the sky above, casting brief shadows over the city’s busy roads below. Street vendors call out from every corner, selling everything from street food to high-end gadgets, but no one seems to notice them much, distracted by their surroundings and their own thoughts. Messenger drones zip by, and flying cars hover above them. Everyone, regardless of age or status, all wear the same type of device: a sleek, high-tech wristband. The wristband’s screen glows faintly, displaying a countdown timer, ticking down relentlessly. Every moment is a moment gone. It’s etched into their lives, marking the seconds, minutes, and hours since the moment they were born. People glance at their wrists every few seconds, some with anxious expressions, others with resignation. But children, they don’t look at their wristbands much. When they do, it’s just with curiosity and confusion. The shops and hotels that line the streets are all impeccably designed—luxury brands and futuristic technology are everywhere, giving the city an air of sterile opulence. Yet, despite the affluence, there’s an undeniable tension in the atmosphere. The laughter of a child or the chatter of a friendly conversation feels forced, as if people are simply going through the motions of life, constantly aware that time is running out. The buzz of activity never stops, yet a quiet undertone of dread pervades the city as the timer on everyone’s wrist counts down toward an inevitable end. Above it all, a vast, glowing digital clock looms over the city, a constant reminder of the inescapable passage of time. It watches over everything, casting its cold glow on the people below as they march through their days, always aware of the clock ticking, ticking, ticking.]

LORRAINE

(At a bustling city square, LORRAINE stands alone, gazing up at the digital clock looming above the city. The screen of her wristband glows faintly, showing a timer steadily counting down. The sound of the crowd blurs around her as she takes in the scene, detached, her mind elsewhere. Her fingers tap nervously on the wristband, but she doesn’t look at it directly. She knows the timer is ticking down, just like everyone else's. She knows she hasn’t long left. Her appearance reflects the wear of living in a world where every second matters. A hoodie, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, causing the fabric to curl and bunch up, dark jeans, and scuffed sneakers. Her hair is messy, swept to one side. Her wristband beeps, catching her attention. She glances down.)

Three hours, twenty-nine minutes. (She muses.) Wonder how it’ll happen. Car crash, maybe? Or a falling flower pot. Perhaps an assassination. That’ll be quite the story for passerbys to tell.

(A horn honks, ushering LORRAINE away from the center of the intersection. She crosses the street, taking a seat on the bench.)

LORRAINE

Jeez, old geezer! Have some patience, won’t you? (She snaps in annoyance.) If I have three hours left, I don’t want it to be spent on nothing. (She tilts her head.) What should I do with three hours? What even can I do? People usually call their parents or spend time with their children when they have less than a month left. But I don’t have either, so…

RANDOM PERSON 1

Maybe not contemplating death loudly? It’s kinda ruining the mood for everyone else. (He walks away.)

LORRAINE

(She rolls her eyes, shouting after him.) My goodness. No sympathy for the dying. I hope you’re next!

NARRATOR

In this world, death wasn’t… bad. The timer wasn’t evil. Why, you may ask. First of all, gosh, you nosy child. Some things don’t have to have an answer. Second of all, think of your world, for example. If you asked: Would you rather know when you die or not? then many people will surely choose the former. To some, fear of the unknown is greater than the fear of death. Of course, nobody in this world truly knew how the timers worked. Just that when it reached zero, people died. But you might be thinking, Well, I don’t want to know when I die! And that’s fair enough. There are also many people here who don’t want to, either.

LORRAINE

(She sighs, opening up her phone and scrolling around. There wasn’t much to do, though, because she’d already written up a will weeks beforehand.) Really does suck I’m dying so young. This stupid system… must’ve been a dumb glitch… The government should do something about it, make a rule saying that you can’t die until you’re like, thirty or something. It’s just such a pain, having to prepare— (She pauses, eyes going wide. There was a giant BREAKING NEWS! headline strewn across her news page.) What the hell? (She furrows her brows.) What is… what in the world…?

NEWS REPORTER 1

(A giant billboard in the city square lights up, a news reporter dressed in a formal navy suit and red tie appears. NEWS REPORTER 1 has a solemn expression on his face.) All across the world, a rampage is breaking out. Hundreds and hundreds of people are now killing others, murdering, trying to hoard more time.

(Everyone in the vicinity instantly starts to panic, some running around and screaming, others quickly darting away to find a spot to hide. As another reporter appears on screen, the chaos pauses momentarily.)

NEWS REPORTER 2

But how is this even possible? Everyone has their own designated time; stealing time is simply unheard of!

NEWS REPORTER 1

That’s what we all thought, too. But this happened at 9:43 PM, approximately twenty-four minutes ago, at the Wxoya Prison. Three criminals, Quinn Tilda, Annie Masse, and the infamous Mudd R., managed to break out. They wreaked havoc and broke into a local electric station in an attempted robbery. The cashier was killed, and Mudd R. likely noticed his time increasing.

NEWS REPORTER 2

That has a very high possibility. As you probably know, Mudd R. was sentenced to death by quantum disintegration, and his execution date was two days from now. In an act of desperation, he and Tilda, and Masse escaped prison. His timer changed after the crime.

NEWS REPORTER 1

But folks, as we all know, that’s not possible. They’ve never changed, and have been set ever since we were born. So, don’t worry. The government will get this fixed promptly. Remember: timers don’t change.

LORRAINE

(She stares at the billboard as it fades back to black. The panic in the crowds has died down, and they seem to believe what the reporters stated.) But… what if they do? (She whispers under her breath.) What happens then? (She glances down at her own timer. It was the same. Now, three hours and twenty-two minutes left.) But… stealing time… (Suddenly, her phone rings. LORRAINE waits for the second ring, and then picks up.) Hello?

RHODES

Raine, did you hear the— (His voice sounds urgent, although staticky over the holograph call. The frames flicker into place, and a mini-Rhodes appears before LORRAINE.)

LORRAINE

(She interrupts him.) —About the time stealing? Yes, I have. Can you explain to me what the hell is going on? They’re saying it’s not possible, but clearly something is happening.

RHODES

I know, Raine. Hundreds of people have heard the news before we did, and they obviously believe it. Some people are on their last few hours, and desperate people do desperate things when they have little left to lose. You have to get out of the city, get far away.

LORRAINE

What’s the point with three hours left? I might as well join in, or grab myself a bagel and watch the show. I’ve been craving some bagel with cream cheese and tuna… maybe some hummus and chili paste… (Her voice trails off when she doesn’t receive a response.)

RHODES

(He goes silent briefly.) Raine. What are you talking about? (The mini-Rhodes crosses his arms, lips pursed.) Are you high on caffeine? What are you going on about?

LORRAINE

So, there are three hours and twenty minutes left on my timer, and I don’t see a point in leaving— (She is cut off by RHODES.)

RHODES

And you just went, nah, I don’t need to tell my best friend about this, he won’t freak out when I totally drop the bombshell on him at all? (He demands.)

LORRAINE

I didn’t know that I needed to mention it, Rhodes. It’s not that important, and you’re kinda a busy guy, so… (She sighs, suddenly jolted by the sound of someone yelling. A man, ragged and wild-eyed, charges toward her from the crowd, wielding a knife. Her heart races as she instinctively steps backward. She shouts as she fumbles to back away.) Holy crap! I don’t wanna die by stabbing!

(In a split second, the knife swings erratically, and Lorraine, in a desperate reflex, swings her own arm to try to block the attack. Instead, the knife flies out of his hand, straight into his chest.)

LORRAINE

(She gasps, her eyes wide.) Oh my god! What did I do?!

(She scrambles forward to check, but it’s clear the victim is dead, the knife embedded deeply in their chest. The man with the knife stumbles away, his wild expression turning to shock and disbelief.)

RHODES

Raine? Raine, talk to me! What happened? RAINE!

NARRATOR

Lorraine hesitates and glances down at her wrist again. It is no mistake… it doesn’t say three hours and twenty minutes, but now five hours and forty-nine.

TO BE CONTINUED…

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious event celebrating the art of writing in its many forms. This competition provides a platform for writers worldwide to share their unique voices and stories. Participants explore diverse themes and styles, contributing to a rich tapestry of global literature.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Rosie Lee for sharing "TICK-TOCK" with the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her thought-provoking script challenges us to reflect on the passage of time and the societal constructs around it. We look forward to more innovative works from Rosie in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.