The Clock Shop (ORIGINAL VERSION)

2

Over those two days leading up to Wednesday, I stayed worried about what Mr. Clifton had meant. It worried me so much, I ended up laying awake in my bed at night wondering, I just stared at the wall and ceiling of my 1 bed 1 ½ bath home, unable to barely close my eyelids. When I did end up falling asleep, I had dreams about what could happen at that clock shop, and still could barely function throughout the day, and had to order food and sit in my pajamas trying to mentally prepare. Why is this even bothering me so much? This is what I thought multiple times throughout the day and night, hoping I could think about something else.

     One dream I had started with me cleaning the dust off an old grandfather clock near the back desk.

     The clock had Roman Numerals, the hands showed the time as 8:59. An annoying ticking sound went by till the clock struck 9.

     All the clocks with bells chimed in unison.

     Dong...

     Dong...

     Dong...

     Dong...

     Dong...

     Dong...

     Dong...

     Dong...

     On the last strike, everything stopped.

     Dong.

     No more ticks, the second hand had stopped as well.

     The whole shop was silent and went dark. The only light was coming from the street light across the street from the shop; it illuminated a lonely old man. I was startled and lost my breath for a second. Who was that man? Was he going to kill me? Is that Mr. Clifton?

     Then I started to hear a ringing noise that kept growing louder, and louder, piercing my ears. The ringing kept going until I woke up, ending the dream and the ringing. Not so much of a nightmare, it just gave me chills.

     The other dream I had about the clock shop wasn't as chilling, it was just, weird. It made me want to question the extent of what weird things could actually happen.

     I was also cleaning a clock in this dream, but it was a house-shaped cuckoo clock. It had a tag labeled that it was made in Germany, and I could tell from the style. It had amazing detail and a little German boy and girl standing outside the house, watering the colorful, carved-in flowers.

     As I was cleaning it, a little bird popped out of the flap:

     "Hello there Hannah!"

     It was alive. It was talking to me.

     A talking, living bird.

     I stood startled, confused about how it knew my name, why it knew my name, and I was completely in awe, puzzled that someone would use a real bird for their cuckoo clock.

     "You have nothing to worry about, Hannah," it reassured me, "please stay, and thank you for cleaning my home!"

     The reassurance it tried to give me didn't help. I took two steps back, knocking into a grandfather clock, and pushing it to the ground.

     BAM!

     I awoke, startled, and in a pool of my own sweat.

***

That dream I had, was on the night before I started the job. These dreams did not help me lower my feelings of worry about what might happen at the job. I did not want to end up in a horror movie and get killed, and neither did I want to come across a talking bird!

     But I shouldn't have had to worry about that, because neither of those things happened, but different things, just as chilling and weird did happen.

***

After each dream, I reached for the switch of the lamp on my nightstand. I would look around my room, go to the bathroom and splash myself with cold water.

     I stared at myself in the mirror, at my sleep-deprived and insane-looking face. I had water dripping down my face. Why is this such a big deal to me? Why is this bothering me so much!?