That Old Pendulum Clock

I remember first moving into this old house a couple months ago, thinking it was nothing more the just some old shoe box house listed for cheap by some elderly couple moving into a retirement home. They had decided to leave all their furniture behind, a home set up and ready for new residence. Although, a strange request, their only rule was to never move the old pendulum clock fixed above the fire place. Sure, I thought it strange at first, but I was desperate for a place to live, so I signed. I would soon learn why they had this rule in place.

The old house was a little ways out but not to far from where I needed to work, maybe a 15 minute drive, give or take. The move wasn't to much of a hassle, just a few of boxes here and there, most in the guest bedroom until I had time to get to them. It would probably take a couple days to go through them, with work being my main concern. Now that I had the house, it felt oddly surreal, like i'd been there before. Sure, it was old, but it seemed to have this loving family feel to it, one that not many homes had to them anymore. Any outsider could tell, this old home was taken great care of long before I got here. Gradually, I would start to relax and get a better feel of the place as I explored what the homeowners before me had left behind. With the little time I had before moving in, I didn't even take a tour of the place.

It seemed the elderly couple was into collectable fine china and old tea sets, as they were on display around the house, most being in the living room. Beautiful, and all seemed unique in a way, having the initials E.E.L. etched into them. While the only rule was to keep the antique pendulum clock where it was at, they never said anything about getting ride of anything else within the house. My mind would drift to the thought of selling a few of the tea sets before something would catch my attention. The pendulum clock..... It was like I was suddenly drawn to it. I couldn't explain why, but, it seemed so beautiful to me, like I had to get a better look at it.

What was so special about it that the elderly couple didn't want me to get ride of it? It didn't have any sentimental value to me, yet I was suddenly drawn to it. It didn't seem to work, staring at it long enough one could tell the hands no longer moved. I would reach for the clock, taking it off the wall above the fireplace. It was heavy, much heavier then I first thought causing me to fall back as it's full weight fell on me. I would somehow gain some form of balance, almost dropping it as I sat it down on the floor, giving out a deep sigh of relief that I didn't fall with that heavy clock on top of me. I would looked at where it previously sat, being greeted by a dark void where the old clock had sat, and there was just.... Nothingness.... The dark void looked unreal, like something out of a cartoon. I would stare and stare until I was sure nothing came out. What seemed to weigh a ton, would now feel weightless, picking up and putting the old pendulum clock in its place. I thought for certain, nothing came out of the unreal space, yet I would surely be mistaken that day.

It wouldn't take long after that event for the little box to start appearing. Within the week, that old pendulum clock would ring out its sweet song seemingly at a random time. And once that song was over, the ringing would begin. It would become deafening, so deafening I needed to be outside to escape the sudden assault. I could never pin point where the ringing would suddenly come from, but I knew I would soon come after that sweet song. Yet, whenever I open the door to escape that deafening assault, this small box is often sitting at my doorstep. At first I thought it was sent to the wrong home, as the box was never addressed to me but to someone with the initials I.E.L, often with me putting in the mailbox to return to sender.

Not long after would I figure out a pattern of misfortune starting to befall me. At first, the misfortune was little. Things, such as my phone or laptop would suddenly die after being fully charged, to having hot coffee spill on me. As days went by with me constantly trying to send that little box to its rightful owner, the misfortune would escalate. The day would come when that little box decided my fate. I don't remember much of the details, but I can recall what happened before the accident took place. I was on a date with this nice man with these beautiful brown eyes, the type of eyes one can get lost in if they stared too long. He and I were finishing out our date by going out to dinner after a movie. It was supposed to be a simple walk from the movies to the nearby diner down the street. I recall walking and chatting with him, before that memory becomes fuzzy. I would wake up months later in the hospital, struggling to understand how I got there. They say it was a freak accident. That his death was no fault of my own. Yet, for some reason, I can't help but find blame in myself.

After recovering, I would return home to find the porch full of these little boxes to E.E.L. Why wouldn't the sender correct the address? Did I not tell them more then once this was the wrong address? I would have to push down whatever annoyance I felt and bring all the little boxes inside. I had planned to put 'Return to Sender' on all the boxes before that sweet song from the old pendulum rang out. I would pause, angered that the clock decided it was the best time to ring out. I had grow accustom to its sweet song, but not the ringing that came afterwards. Going to the door, I would open it just before the ringing stopped to find another little box sitting on my door step. I had made sure before going inside to grab them all, so why was there another?! This question would run around in my brain a while as I picked up the new little box and brought it inside with me, adding it to the pile before suddenly picking it, and opening it. There was nothing inside. It was maddening. I would then proceed to rip open all the boxes one by one to find nothing in them, all except one. That box would have 4 letters inside, dedicated to myself.

'I remember moving into this old house a few months ago....'