A Clock Chimes Once

Two ticks on the clock, that’s all it takes. First, a chime; just one, to alert the beast. Then two seconds more, ticking away as fast as your heart beats. Two ticks, and the beast tears you apart. That’s been the rule for as long as any of us can remember. If the old grandfather clock chimes as you pass, you’re dead—no question. But recently it’s been changing. Sometimes, it doesn’t chime; sometimes, you don’t get a warning. You don’t get to run. I think it’s learning. I think it wants to leave the clock. ……………..

“Mom, it’s time to go!!” Sarah shoved her feet into her flats. She listened for her mother upstairs, hearing nothing.

“Mom!!” Sarah moved to the bottom of the stairs. Staring up the narrow hallway.

“Mom?” Checking the clock, Sarah jogged upstairs. She pushed open her mother’s door, shocked to see her still in bed. Creeping to her bed, Sarah gently shook her mother’s shoulder.

“Hm? Sarah?”

“Mom, what are doing in bed? Are you sick?”

“No, of course not, honey. Why?” Sarah’s mom gave a plastic smile.

“It’s just that… well, you never sleep this late. And we’re supposed to go to the aquarium with the class. You have to chaperone, remember?” Sarah grew more concerned as her mother’s smile stayed stiffly in place.

“Right, of course, dear. Just give me a moment.” Sarah’s mother got out of bed.

…………….

A couple hours into the aquarium trip, the group stopped at the food court. Hopping in line with her mother, Sarah contemplated some of the less mom-like behavior she has seen today. Soon enough, it was their turn to order. Sarah placed hers and looked expectantly at her mother.

“I’ll have a hotdog, please.” Sarah’s mother had that plastic look again. Sarah blanched, confused yet again.

“Mom? You’re vegetarian!?”

Sarah’s mother blushed and cringed all at once. Quickly smoothing her features, she gathered up that stiff smile and whispered conspiratorially, “Maybe I’m just trying something new, sweety.”

This was the last straw for Sarah. There had been weeks of off behavior from her mother, but this? This was just too different. She walked off to finish exploring on her own. An hour later, as Sarah joined the others on the bus, she noticed a strangely ashen look to those under her mother’s supervision. One coughed harshly as they made eye contact, turning away quickly and shivering against the heat of the bus.

………

A few weeks later, Sarah noticed yet another unusual change. Her mother refused to enter the basement. That was where she did all of her sewing! And yet, Sarah was tasked with moving all the supplies up to the living room. All because she asked what her mother had been working on, having not seen anything for an unusual time. While in the basement, Sarah took note of the old grandfather clock her father bought weeks ago. She recalled how he would fight with her mother over it, claiming it would speak to him. That it would whisper and chime until he opened the door.

There had been one occasion when her father, remembering only opening the clock, had returned home hours into the night covered in scratches and raving about ticking and monsters. That had been the last straw for her mother, and her father was soon banished from the house. The clock had sat open for days before Sarah’s mother dragged it into the basement.

Now, staring at its yellowed face, Sarah wondered why her father had been so obsessed with its inside. Creeping over, she carefully pulled open its door. Looking into the dark container, she was disappointed to see nothing of any significance. But as she close the door, she noticed faint scratch marks in its base. Crouching down, she read the harsh writing.

Sarah, if you’re reading this then the monster has taken me. You need to run. Run and don’t come back. I don’t know what it wants, but it has taken my body. You need to leave before the others take you. There are so many of them in here, Sarah. Go. Go, before they see you too.—Mom

Unbeknownst to Sarah, another beast had already spotted her. It stood in the shadows of the clock, clutching a journal in its hand. As it waited, it recalled its own time as human. It remembered its naivety at thinking it could best the beast. Thinking that keeping a journal would be enough to warn others away. No, no matter how many read the words, the clock kept being sold. And now, it was his turn to escape. Rushing forward, it began the short ritual.

First, a chime. Then two ticks on the clock. Poor Sarah barely had time to stand.