The Thirteenth Hour Clock
Suzy refused to settle in. She wouldn't unpack her own things and never entered any of the cosier, more home-like rooms of the cottage for fear of feeling as though she belonged there. She couldn't stand the thought of feeling what we call 'at home' at neighbour-less number 13.
However, though she complained bitterly about being stuck in the lonely cottage, she shot down any suggestions to 'explore the woods' down with ice. Suzy had lost a lot of sleep over the warning words she had heard, and, though roughly convinced that her mind had been playing tricks on her, they still clung grimly to the walls of her mind.
She had been given the best room in the cottage, despite Ralph complaining bitterly. Suzy had a view of the surrounding mountains, which had bright, pink-and-red hues because of the stained-glass windows. Her room was also bigger than the rest of the bedrooms, and Suzy knew why - her parents were trying to win her over, though they could detect her blatant annoyance to their attempts.
They hadn't realised quite how big neighbour-less number 13 was, because from an outsider's viewpoint it looked tiny. But it turned out to have a whole floor of underground rooms that were enormous, and contained forgotten objects from previous owners. Suzy hadn't got excited like her mother had hoped when she was shown the massive box containing old, laced shoes and boots - thirteen pairs. She hadn't reacted when Ralph had screamed in delight when he saw a thick, brown, leather belt of thirteen gleaming knives and instantly grabbed one of the sharpest by the blade and cut his palm right open by accident, causing him to scream for quite a different reason.
No, Suzy simply wore the expression she normally did nowadays - one of boredom.
Still, something intrigued Suzy more than she let on, and that was the fact that three of the underground rooms were locked stiff and she couldn't help imagining they were for a reason. She wanted to get inside, but yet was rather afraid of what she might find. Corpses and bloodstains kept crawling into her mind...
***
Suzy awoke from a nightmare. She couldn't recall much of it, but what she could remember was someone gripping her neck and crushing her windpipe, so she was glad she had stirred before she found out the end, because it couldn't have been a good one. The worst (and weirdest) thing was that she recognised the dream almost as a memory...
Suzy tried, despite not wanting to, to go back to sleep. She hated the thought of another nightmare, but she hated the thought of staying awake through the long night even more, what with fierce winds rushing round the cottage and making the windows rattle and the creak of the floorboards every time she adjusted herself on the bed. The gales could easily have been a ghost swooping past round the house and the creaky floorboards could also have been a discreetly creeping burglar - or worse...
Suzy didn't know why, but she leapt out of the bed as a strange shaky feeling penetrated her whole body, making her go rigid. Suzy couldn't stay still. She had to move, and she had to be sure there was no one in the house.
She eased open her door, turning the icy handle as quietly as she could, and stepped out into the corridor, her feet slapping louder than she wanted them to against the wooden floor. Reassuring snuffles and snores leaked out of her parents' and Ralph's room. Though angry with her parents and always annoyed at Ralph, knowing they were there helped her carry on.
Suzy tip-toed down the spiral staircase, gripping the wooden banister so hard her fingers felt as though they'd snap. Her breath was going frosty in the midnight air, and with every inhale and exhale she made, her heart beat faster and faster and faster...
She passed the so-called living room. It might have looked a little lively by day, with ruby-red sofas and a fluffy mauve rug illuminated by the glow of a real log fire slowly burning itself into powder, with programs dancing around on the flat-screen television, but by night it was a silent cave, welcoming only to ghosts.
Suzy then drifted past the kitchen and dining room - and she suddenly knew where she was headed. She wasn't checking for burglars, she was going to fulfil something that had greatly intrigued her for days...she didn't know how, but she was...
The corridor got darker and darker as the remaining light from windows died out, and soon Suzy was walking through a mist of darkness, her hands groping the air for a frosty handle, which she gripped tightly as she reached the door at the end of the hallway. Suzy shook her glossy black hair out of her dull, grey-green eyes, and wrenched the door open, whimpering as the darkness devoured her. A hundred ghostly demons seemed to sweep out into the open air, like the sorrow from 'Pandora's Box'.
Suzy clenched her fists and wandered down the chilling stone steps, descending into the underground rooms and plunging herself further and further into darkness. Suzy raised her hand and slid it over a bump on the wall - a light switch. Rather eagerly, she clicked it, cold tears now sliding from her eyes. The fear was too much, she despised it. She wanted to go home.
" This was always home," a hiss swept the underground, so soft and fine it could have been the speech of a snake.
Suzy froze.
She'd heard it again.
"W-who are y-you?" she whispered hoarsely.
No reply came, and Suzy, swallowing hard, walked down yet another bleak corridor, passing rooms she had previously entered and been disappointed with. Everything, even bathed in golden light, felt scarier down here. There was no carpet, no paint, no hanging pictures, nothing that made the rooms feel at all homey - it felt like walking through a dungeon, for all was made of stone apart from the rusted iron doors. The smell of damp and crumbling stone pierced Suzy's nostrils, and the biting silence swirled in her ears so that every tiny sound seemed to echo louder than the baying of wolves.
She reached the nearest locked door and stared at its rust-mottled surface before clenching the handle. She knew it was locked, of course she did, but something inside her told her she had to try...
She pushed the door hard, waiting for the tough creaking that told her it was jammed shut.
But it opened.
Suzy gazed at the entrance, astounded, and then started to shake uncontrollably. She had known it was locked - she had tried to push it open the first time she was down here! Why would it give so easily just two days later? The key was lost, never to be found, so how could such a thing happen?
Suzy gripped her arms, trying to stem her shaking, and slowly stepped inside the dank, stony room, her head bent for fear of what she could see if she lifted it. Gradually, her head began to tilt further upwards, waiting to catch sight of a mangled corpse or a knife plastered with crusty blood.
She saw neither of those things, not so much as a drop of scarlet liquid. All she saw was a proud grandfather clock, made of heavy, chocolate-brown wood with a face of marbled white stone and a swinging pendulum of thick metal. There was nothing strange about it, though it was a little odd that it was still ticking away, but other than that, nothing.
...That was, apart from the fact that it had thirteen hours, not twelve, and that the twisted iron hands were pointing to the thirteenth hour right that second, even though the thirteenth hour didn't exist...
Suzy's eyes popped.
"What time is it?" she hissed hoarsely.
There was a silence, and then-
"No word of a lie, that clock tells the truth. I think you'll find that it's thirteen o'clock."
Someone was standing behind her.
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Well, well, well! I hope this is to my few readers likings! I rather like this chapter, I hope the rest of you do. It was quite fun writing, and I actually felt scared for Suzy!
Please point out any nitpicks, but there should be no spelling mistakes as I posted it into Microsoft Word, but do give suggestions.
Cheers.
