The clock tower

'Don't speak to anyone,' the message reads. 'I'll be there at noon.'

You sit on the edge of the fountain. The old clock tower pokes out of the top of the crowded market stalls across the way.

You've heard stories of the witches. That's what brought you here in the first place. The witches and their tricks.

'They're just stories,' you told him. 'In the end, they're always JUST stories.'

You lean back, running your fingers through the cool water, breaking the reflecting sun into a million sparkles.

'Excuse me, miss,' her quavering voice trembles, as she rests her cold hand on your bare shoulder.

You turn around, fixing the strap on your vest top.

'I'm sorry to bother you,' she continues. 'I was just wondering if I could have five minutes of your time?'

You look past the stooped over old lady to check the time on the clock tower. He agreed to meet you there at noon. The time is eleven fifty four. You're not going anywhere. You can't tell her you're busy or walk away, so you agree to give the sweet old lady five minutes of your time.

'Thank you, dear,' she replies, as she walks away.

Confused and smiling, you look over to see me waving from the edge of the market. You look up to the top of the clock tower. The clock reads eleven fifty nine.