The Clock of Miss Fortune ✔

Chapter - 16

Hannah opened her eyes. She abruptly sat straight. Her eyes were blurry. She tried to make sense of her thoughts and where she was. It was an antique store. "Okay?" A voice which felt far away whispered. "Are you okay?" It was closer now. "Hannah!" Cristal shook her.

"Cristal?" Hannah took in deep breaths. Cristal gave her a glass of water. She drank it in one quick gulp. "What happened?"

"You collapsed outside." Cristal said. "You should lay down."

Hannah's body was drenched in sweat. Cristal helped her clean it and even gave some of her clothes to wear. She pulled out a bottle of chilled beer and gave it to Hannah. "Thanks." Hannah said. "You keep beer in here?"

Cristal shrugged and smiled.

"O'lim will get mad at you."

"He won't care."

Slowly but steadily images and words of what she experienced started to come back. And with that those who she saw as well. On the other side of the door was that man, faceless with only a mouth and rotted black gooey teeth facing them. "Want some?" He gathered the black gooey thing in his hands. "Want some, lady?" Hannah shut her eyes closed.

"What's wrong?" Cristal said.

Hannah pointed at the door.

"What? There's no one."

Hannah opened her eyes. There was no one there. Maybe she was imagining it. She looked back and there he was holding the black gooey thing in his hands as it dripped on Cristal's shoulders. Cristal didn't seem to see him. "Want some, lady? Want some? Want to be the sacrifice?" Hannah jerked back and hit her head on the counter. Her consciousness faded but only for a few seconds. She had a bump on her head but nothing serious. As her vision cleared she looked around but beside Cristal no one else was there.

Hannah rubbed her temple "Am I going crazy?" She left the beer bottle which she had barely drank and left the store in a hurry.

The house felt empty. Even the streets felt empty even with all the people and cars around. What difference did it make? Nothing. Hannah rushed in and found Michael in the kitchen. He held a pack of ice on his head. He was bleeding slightly. A cup was broken and drops of coffee stained the floor and wall.

Hannah told him what happened and Michael did the same. It had become clear that they were somehow with Howard and Balentine. In that time and place time had warped. This had started ever since she bought the clock and this realization came close. She headed straight for it. The clock looked normal. There was nothing strange about it. It was 3:17pm. The merry-go-round had changed. There were seven dolls and the space between them had closed considerably. Where there was a small piece of wood sticking out between two girls. A very tiny piece. Now it had erected into a half carved doll. Both the legs were attached to the merry-go-round, its torso had also erected, and hands had started to form. A new doll was being born. How? She opened it and tried to pull the merry-go-round. As she did fear swept through her body and she jerked back. It was unlike she had felt.

Hannah tried to pull it out again, and as she pushed on, she was bombarded now by flashes of images in her head. Her head felt full and heavy, undoubtedly proving that it would worsen unless she could escape. She must leave it and as she was about to, a force pushed her away and her body went flying hitting the wall behind. Michael rushed out and found Hannah on the floor.

Michael looked on his side when he heard a giggle. The hallway was dark and long; neverending. It stretched out endlessly and the giggle of the little girl moved along with it. He stretched out his hand to hold Hannah. She wasn't there. He held nothing. Just air which felt damp and cold. His body felt the temperature dropping tremendously.

The hallway was dark, penetrating and calling his name with the same coldness in his voice. "Let me tell you a story." The voice said. The voice sounded coarse. It sounded as if the man speaking through the darkness struggled to talk. His mouth was full of something and he'd spit before talking. Michael even caught or seemed to have seen, a dark gooey thing dripping down the walls. "A story that Alvarez loves." He giggled like a little girl. "I do not see. I do not hear. I do not smell the crimson soul. I am only a messenger of Alvarez. The first soul. The first sacrifice. Want some? Want something from me?" His words changed as if he had forgotten his own voice and his own purpose. "Want some of this?" He threw the black gooey thing in front of Michael's feet. "Want... to learn some of the past?"