Hubert woke at the ungodly hour of four am and dragged himself out of bed to make himself a cup of coffee in his small kitchen. It was odd. His alarm hadn’t woken him for his next shift change. Luckily he’d gotten used to waking of his own accord. Hugging himself, he flipped on the TV whilst he waited for the pot to boil. It was going to be a cold and miserable day according to a sombre-faced weatherman that filled the screen. What ridiculous hour does he have to wake up to?, thought Hubert with a shudder. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a normal night’s sleep.

​

Pulling on a thick jacket, Hubert tentatively sipped his hot coffee as he stepped out onto the street and locked his front door. His breath rose in front of his face as he checked his watch, his green eyes reflecting off the small circle of glass. Twenty past four, he still had ten minutes to make it to the end of the block and start his rounds. Mr McKenzie was his first client, a middle-aged man who had to rise early in order to open the local bakery. He lived in a relatively large house on the edge of the small town Hubert looked after. The location meant that Hubert was able to walk there in less than ten minutes before doubling back towards the centre of town for his next client. Being a weekend, the short trip was the first out of only five he had to make that morning, as opposed to his regular ten clients that he had during the week. Hubert was looking forward to getting back to bed early for a change and knew that the shift should go without any hiccups. Recently he’d been having troubles with a small and vicious white dog at the McKenzie household, but an agreement had been made to keep the dog locked in the living room overnight so that he could enter and exit the building without hassle. If all went according to plan, the dog was the only tough part of his day and he could expect to be resting his head on a pillow in less than an hour and a half.

​

Hubert sighed as he stepped off on his trek through a light, morning drizzle. It was frustrating that a morning shift was needed on a weekend with such few clients, but the head timekeeper insisted that it had to be done. The shift meant extra holiday time and a small bump in each pay cheque but was often a little stressful due to a precise five-thirty end time at the boss’s house. Dire consequences were rumoured to be waiting for those who woke the boss a minute too early or a minute too late. Quite often Hubert wondered how he’d landed the job. At least I get more time off, he thought to himself.

​

Crossing the road, Hubert waved to the local milkman, Mr Kennedy, who was up earlier than usual, doing his rounds. He was meant to be Hubert’s third client for the day but evidently had cancelled without notifying the night staff. Hubert made a mental note not to swing by the third house on his list and kept walking.

​

Arriving at the front gate of the McKenzie household, a familiar, high-pitched yip suddenly caught Hubert’s attention and caused him to spill some of his coffee. Perched on the front windowsill, behind the glass, sat the small shih-tzu cross that had recently become Hubert’s nemesis. With its small teeth bared in utter defiance, Hubert was relieved to find that the vicious creature was in the room it was meant to be in. How Mr McKenzie wasn’t already woken by the noise it made was lost on Hubert, but he was at least grateful for the extra money he sometimes received as a tip.

“Nice to see you, too, Mitzy,” muttered Hubert as he opened the front gate and made his way across the large front yard, trying hard not to look at the little dog that often filled him with dread.

​

Reaching the front door, Hubert produced a large key-ring and began thumbing through his vast collection for one marked “1”. It was twenty five past four which made him confident that he would get through his rounds on time, especially now he didn’t have to swing by Kennedy’s place. Most clients weren’t bothered by an early visit, as long as they were woken between the two times they’d given. If they had enough time to start their day without any trouble, they were happy. The only exception was Mrs Quartz, his final destination. She lived in a large mansion that sat on a hill on the other side of town and every morning she had to be woken exactly on time. It made some of Hubert’s shifts a nightmare. He tried not to think about it as he unlocked the front door.

​

With the sun still yet to rise, it was quite dark inside the long hallway that ran the length of the McKenzie household and Hubert ran his hand along the wall beside him in search for the light switch. A sudden lack of sound had caught his attention and his heart was now pounding in his ears.

​

“It’s ok,” he told himself quietly as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light inside, “she’s in the living room. You’re alone.”

​

With tentative steps, Hubert edged his way up the hall towards a large flight of stairs that ascended to the next floor. A long rug was soft beneath his feet and muffled the sound of his progress. Three minutes until four thirty.

​

As Hubert slowly made his way toward the top step, a board creaked on the landing above. Hubert froze.

​

“Mr McKenzie?” he whispered, his voice catching slightly.

Peering into the darkness above, a small flash of white caught Hubert’s eye.

​

“Oh no,” he groaned as a small guttural rumble began to tumble down the stairs towards him. “Mitzy, no!”

​

How she had gotten out of the living room, Hubert would never know. He could only assume she’d forced her way out, fuelled by the hatred she had for her early-morning visitor. The strength with which she collided with him at the top of the stairs was enough to send him sailing straight back to the bottom. Shrill barking assaulted his ears as he struggled with the small attacker who was now perched on his chest and attempting to nip at his nose.

​

“How are you so strong?” cried Hubert as Mitzy gnashed at him over and over from between his defensive grip on her jaws.

​

As the second hand on Hubert’s watch ticked past four thirty, a deep voice thundered down from above causing both Hubert and the dog to stop their desperate fight to the death.

​

“Mitzy! Stop that now! Leave the poor man alone.”

Sulkily, Mitzy obliged, stepping off the aching Hubert with an air of contempt.

​

“I’m so sorry, Hubert, I swear I’d locked her away as per usual,” said Mr McKenzie, picking up the small shih-tzu cross and scolding it.

​

“That’s ok,” groaned Hubert, picking himself up off the floor, “at least you’re awake on time.”

 

“Yes, that’s true. It may not be the most elegant way to wake someone, but it’s effective.”

 

“You’re welcome, I guess.”

​

“Thanks for this morning. You do a great job as per usual. I’d probably never wake up if it wasn’t for your services, so feel free to take a biscuit or something from the kitchen on your way out as extra sign of thanks.”

​

“Thank you, Mr McKenzie.”

​

​

​

Hubert stretched and took a bite from a chocolate chip cookie as stepped back out into the light rain and made his way back to the street. It was time now to head to Miss Hudson’s house. Miss Hudson was the local pharmacist who liked to rise early to sneak in a run and some meditation before opening her pharmacy. The procedure, she said, was perfect for clearing her head each day so that she could fully focus on helping the frustrating sick people who constantly visited her. Despite his unfortunate encounter with the infamous Mitzy, Hubert was confident he was still running on time. Mrs Quartz will have nothing to complain about this time, he thought, trying not to jinx his luck.

​

Hubert plodded on through the rain and nibbled at his cookie as a gentle breeze picked up. He was grateful for his thick jacket and was really looking forward to having a shower and getting back to bed before six. The thought was enough to take his mind off the road ahead which meant that by the time he noticed the fleet of fire engines blocking his path, he was right in front of it.

​

“Sorry, sir,” said a fire man as Hubert stopped and tried to peer over his shoulder, “there’s a downed power line ahead so you’re going to have to walk around the block.”

​

Hubert groaned as he looked at his watch and then at Miss Hudson’s house which was just on the other side of the blockade. The walk to get there around the block would take at least fifteen minutes. Even with the extra time he had from Mr Kennedy’s cancellation, the positioning of the fallen cable meant and even longer journey to his fourth client as well. He didn’t have the time to be constantly retracing his steps.

​

“Can’t I just sneak through quietly?’ inquired Hubert, “I just have to get to that house right there.”

​

“I’m afraid not,” replied the fireman. “I’m sorry, but at this time we are still uncertain of the safety within the area. No one is allowed to pass through for the moment.”

​

Before the fireman had even finished his sentence, Hubert had finished his cookie and was now jogging back the way he had come. He really wished he’d had time to stretch before setting out. It’s not so bad, he thought as his muscles wearily came to life, I’ve been meaning to get a little more exercise these days. As he neared Mr McKenzie’s house again, however, a horrible sight struck him and dampened his spirits. He’d left the gate open.

​

“Oh no,” whispered Hubert as a familiar growl echoed out onto the street.

​

In a heartbeat, Hubert was sprinting toward the opening in the hedge that surrounded the property. Oh please don’t let that demon escape, pleaded Hubert as the little dog mad a similar dash from the other side. It was all too late. As Hubert neared the gate, the feisty furball slipped through and made a beeline towards him.

​

“Ok, I guess that’s it then,” cried Hubert, altering his course and taking off in the direction of the street corner. The was no need to worry about running late now, at this rate he would be arriving at Miss Hudson’s very, very shortly.

​

​

​

Exploding around the last corner of the block, Hubert was nearly out of breath and the little dog still hadn’t given up, its little legs pumping away more relentlessly than the pistons in a V8 supercar at Bathurst. Ahead of them stood the letterbox that read “Hudson” and Hubert felt a slight pang of hope.

​

“I’m going to make it!” he yelled, much to the surprise of a nearby fireman.

​

With trembling hands, and a gaining Mitzy, Hubert began fumbling through his keys for the one marked “2” as he ran. With a bit of luck, he had it in an outstretched hand by the time he was passing the letterbox. With dwindling speed, Hubert flung himself at the door and somehow got it open and closed before the little dog devoured him. Now safely out of reach, he could just make out the click of little claws on wood as he caught his breath. Oh how he was relieved to have a little sanctuary. Today was going horribly.

​

​

​

At exactly a quarter to five, Hubert woke Miss Hudson with a gentle nudge on the shoulder and delivered his standard greeting.

​

“Good morning Miss Hudson, I hope you are well. It is currently a quarter to five in the morning and roughly six degrees outside. The forecast predicts scattered showers throughout the day with a high temperature of about twelve degrees and a sunset at six o’clock.”

​

“Thank you, Hubert,” yawned Miss Hudson, stretching.

​

“Excuse me, Miss,” said Hubert anxious as Miss Hudson swung herself out of bed, “do you mind if I make my way out through the backyard today?”

​

“Um, sure. But why?”

 

Hubert smiled meekly.

​

“It’s a story I’m not sure I have time to explain I’m afraid,” he said sheepishly. “Just look out for and angry, little shih-tzu cross on your way out for your run this morning.”

​

Hubert peered cautiously out into the backyard through Miss Hudson’s kitchen window. He had just under half an hour to make it to his next client’s house but it meant retracing his steps the long way due to the fallen power cable. The rain was easing up, which was good, but Hubert had no idea where the little Mitzy had gone, which was obviously bad news.

​

“Ok, you can do this,” he whispered, attempting to lift his courage before stepping back outside. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out why she bothered him small much. She was such a tiny dog.

​

Because she’s a spawn of Satan, thought Hubert.

As his watch ticked past ten to five, he threw open the door and bolted for the back fence.

“Please don’t see me, please don’t see me,” he pleaded as the six-foot planks loomed towards him.

​

Twenty metres, ten, five, as the gap closed, Hubert’s heart threatened to leave his chest. He could have sworn he heard the scrambling of little paws on the back veranda.

​

“Here goes...”

​

With surprising dexterity, Hubert reached the fence and scrambled over it with relative ease. He was now in the neighbour’s and able to breathe a sigh of relief. With a quick peek back through the planks, there was no sign of the little white hurricane.

​

“Phew, I’ve lost her.”

​

​

​

Hubert’s next client was a boy named Angus who worked as a labourer and was quite often called upon to fix broken doorhandles in Hubert’s building. He was a nice lad who was always happy to do the odd job for someone, but had built himself a reputation for being almost perpetually tired. This never really bothered anyone though as he never inquired as to why exactly the door handles kept getting broken, a truth that was still lost on Hubert himself.

​

Sorry, no sleep-in for you today, thought Hubert as he wandered in through the lobby of Angus’s apartment complex. He’d made the journey in exactly nineteen minutes, which gave him six to wake up Angus and fifteen to make his way to Mrs Quartz’s. A piece of cake, he thought as he pictured his nice, warm bed at home. It looked like today would turn out well after all.

​

​

​

Unlocking Angus’s front door, Hubert was met by the iconic rumble of the boy’s snoring. No wonder why there isn’t anyone else who requires my services in this building, thought Angus as he wandered down the hallway and into the bedroom. The place was a mess, with empty pizza boxes scattered about the place, various items of clothing in places they shouldn’t be, and the TV still running. Hubert shook his head as he grabbed a frying pan that was sitting on a nearby dresser for some reason.

​

“Alright, lazy, wakey wakey!!” cried Hubert, rapping on the pan with a fork he’d found on the floor. “Time to get up, you don’t want to be late for work!”

​

The racket only brought an angered response from the ceiling above as an upstairs neighbour conveyed their displeasure. Hubert ignored it. It was probably Mr Griswald anyway, who would only have just got home from nightshift at the local petrol station and not have gone to bed yet.

 

“Damn it,” muttered Hubert as Angus’s snoring continued. “Oi, wake up!” he yelled, dropping the pan and fork and grabbing a nearby broom that evidently hadn’t been used in years.

 

He poked the boy with first the handle, and then the bristles, but he still didn’t stir.

 

Hubert looked at his watch.

 

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered, eyeing off a bright-red, electric guitar sitting in the corner of the room. Inside is head a little light bulb pinged on. Two minutes later, he was perched on the end of the bed, with guitar in hand and the amplifier turned to eleven. Just the hum of the feedback was enough to almost make Hubert’s ears bleed as he gripped the plectrum with sweaty fingers.

​

“This better work,” he said with a gulp. He hadn’t left a lot of time for an alternative.

 

With a slight flick of the wrist, Hubert was suddenly blown away with what was quite possibly the loudest sound he had ever heard on earth. He wasn’t even fully aware he’d hit the strings that hard. Beneath him, the bed shook as the whole apartment rattled with the reverberation of a poorly played C major. Anything that wasn’t bolted down hopped across the floor and fell from the walls, beer bottles smashing and teeth chattering.

 

What have I done? thought Hubert, as he raised his hands in a desperate attempt to drown out the noise. It felt as if his brain was about to melt out of his ears. Beneath him, Angus had bolted upright, eyes wide and a pillow wrapped around his head.

​

“What’s going on?” he cried, inaudibly.

 

“Wake up call!” screamed Hubert.

 

“Turn that thing off!” 

 

With a loud crack, the amp went dead as Hubert flipped the off switch behind him. A loud ringing had now replaced the deathly metallic scream and Hubert realised he’d probably, irreversibly, killed a huge amount of ear cells.

 

“Do you hear that?” shouted Angus.

 

“What?” yelled Hubert.
 

“Do you hear that?” repeated Angus.

​

“Hear what?”

 

“That yipping.”

 

“That ringing?”

 

“No, yipping.”

 

Hubert frowned and focused his attention on the tinnitus rippling through his consciousness. There definitely seemed to be a strange, high-pitched noise rhythmically pulsing amongst the sound of hearing loss.

 

“What is that? Is it getting louder?” said Angus as Hubert suddenly jumped off the bed with a loud cry.

 

“Ah! How did you even find me? You evil, little villain!”
 

Angus rubbed his eyes as Hubert dashed out of the room squealing.
 

“Was that a dog?” he asked himself, before rolling over and dropping back to sleep.

 

 

 

Out on the street, milkman Kennedy was just completing the last of his rounds when he was distracted by a strange noise coming from a nearby apartment complex. Mr Kennedy had been up all night with a cold and he cringed as the noise got louder, grating against the throb of a headache. He cursed his brilliant decision to rise early and get his rounds out of the way before dawn. Groaning, he leant over to place a bottle of milk down one of the last doorsteps of the day just as a man and a small whit dog came belting past.

 

“Hey, watch it!” he shouted, turning just in time to see the man attempt to fend off the small creature with a bright red electric guitar. Unaware that the guitar was still slung around his shoulder, the man only accomplished a vicious swing that sailed in a small arch back towards his face. As the man stumbled out of the path of the flying guitar, he tripped on a low-lying hedge of a nearby house and went sprawling across a front lawn.

 

Mr Kennedy shook his head.
 

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day.”

 

 

 

Hubert struggled to catch his breath as he turned onto the wide street that lead up to the large mansion on the hill. The guitar was slowing him down so he tossed it aside as he ran. Behind him, Mitzy continued her relentless reign of terror, hungry for more of the blood she’d managed to taste whilst Hubert was on the lawn.

 

“Why are you so mean?” cried Hubert as he checked his watch. The face was covered in grass and mud, but from what he could just make out, he was going to be early.

 

It’s better than being late, thought Hubert, as long as I don’t accidentally wake her early.

 

Arriving at the enormous front gates, Hubert frantically pressed at the call button. As head time keeper, Mrs Quartz was in charge of making sure the town ran like clockwork. By principle, she liked to be woken exactly on time and Hubert knew he was running a risk using the intercom. It was meant to wake the housekeeper, but was often loud enough to wake the boss as well.

 

“You’re early, Hubert,” came a tired voice from the other end of the line.

 

“I know. Could you let me in please?” replied Hubert, frantically as Mitzy closed the last few metres and began to attack his ankles.

 

“You’re lucky that I’m the only one who appears to be up,” continued the voice, lazily.

 

“Just let me in!” yelled Hubert, trying to push away the little dog with his foot.

 

“What’s the password?”

 

“Don’t play games with me, Jerry!” screamed Hubert, as Mitzy successfully landed a savage nip on one of his toes.

 

With a small click, the large gates began to open and Hubert squeezed through.

 

“Bad dog!” he yelled over his shoulder as he began running up the wide driveway.

 

Jerry yawned and sipped at a cup of lukewarm coffee as he opened the front door for Hubert, the morning specialist. He hoped Hubert knew what he was doing. For ten years he’d been Mrs Quartz’s housekeeper and in all that time, Hubert had rarely broken procedure. Only once had he seen Hubert arrive late, by three minutes to be exact, and Mrs Quartz had suspended him from duty for three weeks. And that was going easy on him, thought Jerry as he began swinging inward. If Hubert worked as hard as the other timekeepers, he’d have been given a month’s suspension easy.

 

The door had barely opened a foot when it suddenly came exploding the rest of the way under the weight of a speeding Hubert. Coffee flew everywhere as a tangle of arms, legs and fur went sprawling across the carpet.

 

“Sorry, Jerry,” said Hubert, jumping to his feet and successfully trapping the small dog beneath his jacket. “You wouldn’t happen to know the time would you?”

 

“I thought that was your job,” groaned Jerry.
 

“Right,” replied Hubert, checking his watch, “silly me.”

 

 

 

Mrs Quartz woke to the familiar sound of Hubert’s voice at exactly five-thirty. She smiled to herself as she stretched and double checked the large clock that hung above her bed.

 

“Good morning, Mrs Quartz, I hope you are well. It is currently five-thirty in the morning and roughly seven degrees outside. The weather forecast predicts scattered showers with a high of twelve degrees. If you plan on travelling today, there is a fallen power line on Main Street affecting all traffic for the next few hours. Also, Mr Kennedy cancelled this morning and will require an adjustment to his account.”

 

“Thank you, Hubert,” said Mrs Quartz, putting on her glasses. “Smooth shift”

 

“Oh, the smoothest,” replied Hubert, smiling feebly as the sounds of muffled barking drifted up the stairs.

 

“What’s that? asked Mrs Quartz, frowning.

 

“Nothing!”

 

“Very well... top work today. I guess I’ll be seeing you again tomorrow.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

Hubert tried not to think about the possibility of another terrible shift.

 

“By the way,” continued Mrs Quartz, I should let you know that you’re due some holiday time for all the hard work you’ve been putting in each morning. It must be tough rising so early each day.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs Quartz, I can assure you that I am looking forward to having a few days off.”

 

“Don’t sound too keen, though,” laughed Mrs Quartz, “if you slack off at all, or cause any mistakes, I might just take that holiday time away.”

 

Hubert’s laugh was forced as he turned to exit the room. Downstairs a phone was beginning to ring with the first complaints of the day. It’ll probably be ringing all morning, thought Hubert as he pictured the entire flat he’d just woken with Angus’s guitar.

 

“Have a nice day, Mrs Quartz.”

 

 

 

That morning, when he finally got home, Hubert Dreamt. He dreamt that he was the one living in the large mansion on the top of the hill. Every morning he would wake to someone else running the morning shift whilst he joked about holiday time. Life was swell as he sipped hot coffee and watched TV, knowing that the town was running much more relaxed now that he was in charge. Jerry brought him the morning paper and the sun was always shining outside. But as Hubert blissfully wandered about his dream, something disturbing caught his eye. It was his reflection. Staring back at him, from every piece of glass and from every mirror, was a person that definitely looked like himself but was not. Instead of head, the neck ended in a large watch face that had a pair of eyes that stared out from either side of a minute hand that was permanently stuck at four o’clock.

 

“That can’t be me,” mused Hubert, raising his hands to his cheeks. The figure in the reflection did the same. To his horror, the reflection did everything the same, but what was worse was a sound that had begun somewhere in the distance, a distinct yip that seemed to be getting closer.

 

“Oh no,” groaned Hubert.

 

 

 

Hubert woke at the ungodly hour of four am and dragged himself out of bed to make a cup of coffee in his small kitchen. It was odd, his alarm hadn’t woken him for the next shift change. An strange feeling tugged at him as he hugged himself and flipped on the TV. Whilst the pot boiled on the stove, a sombre-face weather man informed viewers that the day ahead would be cold and miserable.

​

Maybe I should just stay in today, thought Hubert. I can’t remember the last time I’d had a normal night’s sleep...