The Clock

Part 1

I watch my clock.

I watch it stop.

I wind it up.

I watch it go.

Franklin G. Harlcore sat on a faded red couch that had been torn open in several places. He, as well as the couch, was in a musty living room and was staring up at a clock on the mantelpiece. It was a large, copper owl in appearance and on its chest was the face of a clock. At any moment, the nondescript hands covering that face would probably start slowing down. Franklin G. Harlcore would be ready. He was always ready.

The man who sold the clock to him at the Fensdor Oddities Market, the only location of the type in all of the city of Fensdor, had told him that the magic the clock possessed would die if the clock ever stopped running and if that happened just once, the magic would be gone forever.

Tick- Tock, Tick- Tock.

It wasn't always easy watching a clock. In fact, much of the time, it was downright boring because nothing ever changed. Those hands just ticked away, one second at a time, until eventually, it slowed down to the point when Franklin would methodically wind it up.

Today the clock was lasting longer than usual, almost fifteen hours, which was impressive because the longest he'd ever remembered it going had been just over nineteen hours. The surprising endurance of the clock today was starting to present an interesting dilemma, Franklin G. Harlcore was getting very hungry. In fact, he could almost taste a delicious roast beef sandwich dancing around on his tongue, but he was concerned that the time it would take him to make the meal, could just be time enough for the clock to stop. He couldn't risk it, not even to run, grab what he needed, and return to make his meal in the family room. Franklin would just have to wait and eat afterward. He just hoped, and his stomach hoped even more, that it wouldn't be that much longer.

It wasn't.

Tiiick Tooock.

The slowed rhythm was like heaven to his ears. He quickly did his duty and rushed to the kitchen to eat his roast beef sandwich. He would be safe for at least a couple of hours now.

#

Franklin G. Harlcore woke up in a sweat. It was dark in his living room and at first, he thought that he had ruined everything by oversleeping.

"Calm yourself." He said aloud and eventually his pounding heart settled enough so that he could listen clearly. Soon, relief swept over him like syrup on his favorite pancakes because the clock was still functioning at full speed. Franklin instinctively reached for his lantern so he could see what time it was but then decided to just go ahead and use the clock's magic. True, the timepiece's power was strongest the closer to midnight it was, but as long as it was dark, there never seemed to be too much of a drop off in its effectiveness. The little guy scrambled off the couch and clumsily stumbled over to the mantelpiece where he felt along its surface until his fingers found what they were looking for.

It was a small ornamental candlestick to the left of the owl-clock. Franklin fumbled in his pocket for his tinderbox and quickly pulled it out to light the candle. The room brightened up almost immediately as the glow which the tiny candle was producing was much brighter than it should have been. Another thing that seemed to liven up was the clock. It's formerly brass body began transforming into what appeared to be an actual owl. The feathers, now brown, orange, and white, suddenly seemed to be so lifelike that the impulse to touch them was almost overwhelming, even if it was just to make sure it wasn't an illusion. Franklin moved over and lit the candle on the other side of the clock and wasn't at all surprised to see that the creature now came to life, looked down at him, and asked,