An Assortment of One-Shots

And All The Clocks Struck Thirteen

Tossing and turning in bed, little Corinne found herself unable to sleep. Although it was mid-summer, the night came with a slight chill, a warning of the autumn to come.

Her white, slightly opaque, curtains glowed blue, and a breeze blew past them, sending a ghost of a kiss along Corinne's neck.

Moonlight gleamed in, making the whole atmosphere almost euphoric. In the background, Corinne could hear the slight ticking of her father's antique grandfather clock, his inheritance from his late grandfather, making a bittersweet melody with the tune of crickets chirping outside.

Corinne turned onto her side, and kicked her blanket off. Still, she couldn't find a comfortable position. She sighed, and turned onto her back, looking up at the high ceiling, decorated by the hanging chandelier.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, Corinne stood up, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders like a shawl, covering her thin nightgown. She slowly tip-toed out of the room, shivering at the feel of her bare feet against the cool marble floors.

Gently turning the doorknob, she found herself in the hallway, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting of streams of moonlight and the occasional candle.

Corinne wandered in and out of several rooms, entranced by the mansion's completely different appearance than in the daytime, or so it seemed.

Sometimes, Corinne would duck behind a door or into a closet at the noise of heels clicking, a sign one of the many maids were near. She would hold her breath and stay hidden until the noise faded, then go back out, exploring.

Eventually, she stood at the door to her father's study, fighting the urge to open the door. Corinne had never gone into it, like many of the other rooms, but now, there were no barriers keeping her from what awaited inside.

She slowly turned the doorknob, looking down both sides of the hall to make sure no-one was coming. Then, Corinne swung the door open, revealing a grand room, with a giant mahogany desk towering in the back, accompanied by the old grandfather clock.

Brushing her hands against the bookshelf that climbed up the left and right walls, she savored the feel of the worn leather sliding against her fingertips, and stared at the many sets of encyclopedias and dictionaries, among other things, that her father kept hidden from the rest of his family.

Now, Corinne was face to face with the huge grandfather clock, with it's dark, wooden walls, and the long, gold pendulum swinging behind a panel of glass. The hour hand of the clock was broken off, and the minute hand spinning around madly.

Corinne climbed in top of her father's large chair, and reached up to get a better look.

Just before her hand touched the glass, the minute hand froze, and it started to chime, loudly. Like usual, Corinne counted each strike, an old habit she had for as long as she could remember.

One...Two...Three...Four...Five...
....Six...Seven...Eight...Nine...Ten...
... Eleven...Twelve...

...Thirteen...

Her eyes widened, but she only assured herself that she missed count.