November 10, 2018
It has become what I write about. I don’t think I will apologize. The clock stood quietly in the re-sale shop, its pendulum hanging in the dark wooden coffin of a box. The weights were wrapped with a heavy cloth, perhaps to keep them from banging against one another. If you touched the clock case you could hear the chimes moving inside, stealthily. The face of the clock was oversized, with unusual markings on it. It could have been a barometer, or even a meter to measure the presence of beings of supernatural origin. Two chimes mean ghost at 3 o’clock.