The Clock Tower of Knobbleton

   Deep in the dark green hills of Great Britain used to sit a small village named Knobbleton. This village was home to roughly 200 people, and they all lived peacefully together. They grew and made everything that they needed, so they had no need to do trade with neighboring kingdoms and villages. Because of this, not many people knew of them.

   High above the village, on a steep, rocky cliff sat a lone Clock Tower. The Clock Tower controlled everything the people did. Some people thought that time itself controlled the Governor of Knobbleton, which was very true, but only one person wondered who controlled the time.

   That one person was a thirteen-year old boy named Curtis. For as long as he could remember, he wondered who lived inside the Tower and controlled the time. He even tried to climb the rocky cliff to the tower once, but the rocky cliff couldn't possibly be scaled by even the most gifted rock climber. So, Curtis didn't get far up before giving up.

   One morning the big clock on the Clock Tower chimed six times, the loudest chimes of the day. Everyone in the town climbed out of bed and began their day. No one went against the clock – except for Curtis. Curtis had been up since four o'clock that morning using his late Grandfather's golden spyglass to get a closer look at the Clock Tower. He did this every Wednesday, yet he still saw nothing out of the ordinary.

   At the sound of the eight o'clock chimes, Curtis left his family's cottage to meet his friend, Jane, in the village square. In the center of the village was the village square; and in the center of the village square was a fountain. The fountain was round with a tower-shaped pole protruding from the center that poured water from one side. The fountain was split into twelve parts, with stone walls dividing each segment. Every hour, the pole in the center would turn and fill another segment. When the twelfth and final segment filled to the top, every segment would be drained in an instant by drains in bottom. the Many called the fountain, the Water Clock.

   Curtis turned a street corner and saw Jane sitting on the ground by the Water Clock. Her blonde hair glistened in the morning light. She turned to Curtis and smiled. She stood and walked towards him.

   “Good Morning,” Jane said, hugging Curtis.

   “Hello!” Curtis replied.

   They began to walk down a street lined with shops. Ahead of them sat the cliff with the Clock Tower on it. Curtis stopped walking and stared up at the lone tower.

   “Did you ever think who controls the Clock Tower?” He asked.

   “Of course not,” Jane said.

   “Well think about it for a minute,” Curtis suggested. “Time controls us, but who controls time?”

   Jane looked up at the Tower. “Thanks, now that is all that I'll be able to think about now,” She laughed.

   The two friends walked into the Drunken Dragon Tavern and Inn. They sat at a wobbly table near window that looked out onto the Clock Tower cliff. The clock face read 8:40.

   “Well, look at this!” A wavering voice yelled.

   Curtis and Jane turned to see a thin old man with long hair and a long beard propping himself up with a cane. Foam from a recent stein of ale still bubbled on the gray whiskers above his lips.

   “Drakon!” Curtis laughed.

   Drakon was the owner of the Drunken Dragon and had been for as long as anyone had remembered. He even acquired the nickname, Drunken Drakon, for he was always drunk.

   “What are you kiddos up to this fine,” Drakon burped quite loudly. “Morning.”

   “Nothing, really. Just listening to Curtis blabber on and on about the Tower and time,” Jane laughed.

   Drakon laughed.

   “No, really! Time controls us –,” Curtis started.

   “But who controls time?” Jane interrupted.

   Drakon plopped down onto a chair next to the table. “What do you mean by that?”

   “No one goes up to the Tower, and no one comes down from the Tower,” Curtis said, raising his eyebrows.

   Drakon suppressed a burp and stared blankly out of the window. “There's your clue.”

   A black bird circled around the top of the tower before swooping down into it from the open belfry.

   “That's just a coincidence,” Curtis said. He had watched the tower many times before and hadn't noticed a black bird before.

   “Son, I have been at this tavern since before your grandfather was born. That bird swoops into the Tower about fifteen minutes before every hour,” Drakon murmured.

   “But how could a bird control the Clock Tower?” Jane asked.

   “Who said that was only a bird?” Drakon said, staring blankly out of the window towards the Tower.