PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Old Timer
The clock struck 11. Then, mysteriously the pendulum bounced off its perch.
“That’s it!” She’d hollered. “Shove it in the junk room; I’ve had enough of it disturbing the tranquillity!”
I did as bid. I remember it vividly.
As I went to resurrect the faithful old timer, a familiar shiver coursed through my whole being violently spiking every hair, tugging the skin from my bones.
“Why 11.15?”
The door’s always bolted.
(Keeps meddling small hands and curious minds from trouble.)
Nobody but me has a key?
Then I remembered…
… that was the time she passed away.
Dear LOI,
Chilling little tale.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you 🙂
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I wondered where the story was going and then you punched me in the stomach with that sad last line.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thanks, appreciate the feedback 🙂
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Ooo creepy mourning clock.
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Great ending.
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🙂
Thanks for taking the time to comment.
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Thank you, I appreciate your comment 🙂
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Spooky – clocks do seem to have a penchant for dying when their owners do.
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Yes, they certainly do!
Thanks for commenting 🙂
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…then time stood still. Excellent.
Click to read my FriFic!
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Thank you, I appreciate your comments 🙂
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So sad…
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Yeah 😦
Thanks for commenting 🙂
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Wonderful image of ‘her’ being locked away with the clock.
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Haha, funny 🙂
Thanks for commenting.
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Reminds me of the old song “My Grandfather’s Clock.” Nice one.
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Thank you. Yes, love that song 🙂
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