12:00

I hated that clock. Loathed everything about it from its ticking to the stupid little bells that went off every hour to its smug little face. Some days I wanted to throw it against a wall and other times I flipped it off with both middle fingers and stalked away to contemplate its demise.

But why, you ask? Why do you despise this clock so much? Sweet reader, come sit and let me tell you why I hate this clock.

It all started when I was a child. You see, I grew up in a small family where the women called shots and the men got out of the way when they did. Not that we were a matriarchy or anything, we just knew who was good at what and we either got with the program or got out of the way. Simple really.

I spent a lot of time at the family lake house, which had been my great grandmother Mag's house when she got married to Grandpa Louis. My mom owned it now, but it would pass either my cousin or myself, likely me as I was the oldest of us. Cousin also had no interest in it but enough about her.

This clock sat on the mantle above the fireplace for years, literally years. Brought from overseas, it was the last of its kind or something. Sure, it was well made with a wooden case, glass panels and some sort of gem pendulum but so what? That clock had a secret and so help me, I was determined to figure it out. It’s ticking taunted me, like it was laughing at me. The nerve!

“Are we sure you don’t need to be committed? You seem a little unhinged right now.”

I get it, unreasonable rage directed at an inanimate object. I sound a few fries short of a kid’s meal, you’re right but hear me out.

So, I spent a lot of time in this house growing up. Vacations, holidays, Sunday dinners, you name it. I would sleep in the window seat of the living room so I could look outside. Normal, no? I thought so until I was 21.

We had my birthday here, just family and a couple friends. We were all of age so we each had one small glass of spirits (spoiler alert: none of us liked it much) and then sober friend drove everyone back into town for the night. I got showered, changed party clothes for pajamas, and settled into my usual spot.

At some point, I had to have dozed off because I woke up to a most unholy, awful sound. There were chimes and crunchy noise, like the sound 2 cars make when they collide. I sat up in a panic and looked around the room but did not see anything. I walked the house from top to bottom and found nothing. I took a baseball bat outside with me and walked the fence but didn’t find anything.

Maybe it was the one little glass of alcohol I had but I promise you, when I walked back inside, that clock was glowing and the pendulum was swinging back and forth at such a speed, I thought it would break.

Irritated at being woken up, I cursed out the clock, flipped it off and went back to sleep.

“Stupid clock. Stupid 12 am. Stupid noise.” You get the idea.

I woke up that morning around 8 and everything was perfectly normal. Wind in trees, birds singing, and the sound of tires on gravel as my friends came in with breakfast.

“You look awful, Celine. Hangover?”

“We didn’t drink enough for that, and we all had food before the wine came out. Quite a bit of food, I might add.”

“You didn’t drink though, Quinn.”

“Still.”

“Just a bad dream, is all. Let’s eat.”

We feasted on breakfast sandwiches and drinks from a local place while making plans to cook out at some point. I still couldn’t shake the stupid clock, so I excused myself to go glare at it.

There it sat, ticking away like it hadn’t wrecked my sleep last night, all smug and content in its fancy case.

“Look at you, all content and steady like, ticking away without a care in world. Stupid clock.”

Something was off about it though. I didn’t know what yet but I was going to find it. I spent the weekend in the attic, going through boxes full of books, photos, letters, all manner of memorabilia but found nothing. I went out in the shed and dug through more boxes but found nothing. I even went into town to see if the family had a storage unit! Still nothing.

I was furious. I stopped at the sporting goods store and bought a half dozen trail cams, I was going to catch this clock next time. I would regret those words though I didn’t know it yet.

I feel asleep on the couch, baseball bat in reach. The night came alive and so did the clock. It took every fiber of my being to not smash it into tiny pieces but then I heard something else. Footsteps, like a woman wearing heels and they were hovering over me. I could feel a presence and I tried so hard to remain calm.

“You sure you weren’t that drunk?”

Very sure, one of the group is cop so we all got breathalyzed when they arrived for breakfast; stone sober the lot of us. This was well after breakfast but before dinner so I had time. Right….

The presence faded away as though leaving the room and I slowly sat up. I couldn’t make out any figures, human, animal or otherwise. I didn’t hear anything unusual and didn’t see anything obvious. I glanced towards the clock and it had stopped. No ticking, no pendulum swinging, just still. The time?

12:00.

I checked the cameras and what I found stunned me. A woman, about my height and in a dress, had walked in from the kitchen and sat on the edge of table near me, as if she were checking to make sure I was still alive. Satisfied that I was asleep, she walked to the mantel, set her hand on top of the case, walked back to the kitchen and vanished.

I approached the frozen timekeeper and touched the top as Madam Specter had. The top popped open and lifted slightly from the glass. Inside was a folded, faded yellow handkerchief and a note. The ink was somewhat faded but the way the letters looked suggested it had been written by a woman.

“My dearest granddaughter Celine,

If I have done this correctly, you should find this on or around your 21st birthday. I would also hazard a guess that you saw the clock “malfunction.” This thing couldn’t malfunction if it tried, meaning the 21st birthday shot of absinthe is still done. Next time, spike it with a bit of caramel; should make it go down easier.

Now then, I haven't been around for some time so your memories of me are from childhood. You’ve always had a dislike for this clock, even as a girl. The chimes would disturb you during naptime and bedtime, with noon and midnight being the loudest for some unknown reason. I don’t blame you, I wanted to disconnect the chimes too but your grandfather was stubborn old bat so here we are.

Truth is, this clock should have been buried with your grandfather and I when I finally left for the eternal land but someone, likely your Aunt Marine ( what your uncle Cesar saw in her, I haven't a clue.) couldn’t bear it.

So, do me a favor my girl, remove the small black box contained here in; its a gift for you. Once done, take this clock out back and smash it into pieces whenever you are ready. Bring those pieces to the cemetery and scatter them at the grave of your grandfather and I. Tell Marine off in whichever manner you choose.

With love,

Grandmother “Mag” Magali

I had removed the box that day but didn’t smash the clock yet. Oddly enough, I wasn't ready yet.

Now, a year later, I had returned to finish the job. I walked in and there it was, silent and motionless.

I walked over to it and took the small box from the plant next to it and opened it. Inside was a simple silver set of jewelry with a lily motif and pearls. The tiny note on top had my name on it and was in Grandmother Mag’s handwriting.

I took the clock out back, set it on top of a stump and smashed it. The sound of glass was satisfying and see the wood splinters go flying was equally joyful. I destroyed that clock and reveled in it. Content with my destruction, I gathered it all up using an old linen bed sheet and headed to the cometary.

Eternal Heart Memorial Gardens was at the top of the ridge and overlooked everything. If it wasn't so creepy, it would be a grade A spot for photography or painting. I found my grandparents plot and took a seat on the grass.

“Hi grandma, hi grandpa. So… I smashed the clock today. Took me a year but I did it. I wasn't as ready as I thought I would be. Mom ‘fessed up to the absinthe shot and Quinn didn’t drink any that night cause he’s allergic. She also admitted she forgot the sugar. She took 2 shots to make up for it. Suffice to say she had a rough night of it.

Aunt Marine found out I was coming up to smash the clock. Told her it was your wish and she could kick rocks. She said she was going to come up and stop me. Joke’s on her, I got here 3 days ago and she can’t get here till Saturday morning at the earliest. I’ve got pieces right here in the linen sheet and I got permission from the groundskeepers to scatter them here so I hope you like having your clock back.

Sorry grandpa, I know you liked it but grandma wanted it smashed so here we are. Miss you both, love you forever.”

I dug a small hole in the soil and buried the pieces, smoothing everything back. I sat a little longer, just listening to everything. The bells from town rang out in some song that I couldn’t recall the title of then started to ring for the time.

12:00. Because of course it was.