Chapter 3. The clock tower
738 Words
Mia barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the words from Emily's journal.
I can't remember my mother's face anymore.
The sentence echoed in her mind long after midnight.
By morning, she had convinced herself there had to be a reasonable explanation.
Maybe Emily had been sick.
Maybe the journal was part of some elaborate prank.
Maybe the village wasn't as mysterious as it seemed.
Yet deep down, she knew she was lying to herself.
Nothing about this place felt normal.
---
The village was already awake when Mia stepped outside.
Sunlight painted the cobblestone streets gold.
People greeted her warmly as she passed.
Too warmly.
Everyone seemed to know exactly who she was.
A woman watering flowers smiled.
"Good morning, Mia."
A young boy waved.
"Sleep well?"
An elderly man tipped his hat.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Mia forced polite smiles, but unease twisted in her stomach.
She had never met any of these people.
So why did they act as if she belonged here?
---
As she wandered through the village square, her eyes drifted toward the clock tower.
It rose above every building, casting a long shadow across the streets.
Even in daylight, it felt wrong.
The clock face still showed the same time.
11:11.
Frozen.
Unmoving.
A group of children played nearby.
Mia approached them.
"Does the clock ever work?"
The children immediately stopped laughing.
One little girl hugged a stuffed rabbit to her chest.
"No."
"Why not?"
The girl looked toward the tower.
Then she lowered her voice.
"It doesn't like moving."
The other children exchanged nervous glances.
One boy quickly grabbed her hand.
"We're not supposed to talk about it."
Without another word, they ran away.
Leaving Mia standing alone.
---
That afternoon she decided to visit the tower.
The closer she got, the quieter the village became.
The sounds of conversation faded.
The birds disappeared.
Even the wind seemed to avoid the place.
At the base of the tower stood a heavy wooden door.
Locked.
A rusted chain wrapped around the handle.
A sign hung from a nail.
KEEP OUT
Mia stared at it.
The paint looked old.
Very old.
As if the sign had been hanging there for decades.
She walked around the building.
Every window was dark.
Dust coated the glass.
Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was inside.
Watching.
Waiting.
---
That evening she returned to her cottage.
The journal sat exactly where she had left it.
But something had changed.
A new page had been written.
Mia froze.
She had not touched the journal since last night.
Slowly, she opened it.
Fresh ink covered the page.
The handwriting matched Emily's.
You went to the tower.
Mia's heart hammered.
She flipped through the notebook.
Nothing else had changed.
Only that one sentence.
She swallowed hard.
Then, beneath it, new words slowly appeared.
As if an invisible hand was writing them.
Letter by letter.
Mia watched in horror.
Don't let them know you're asking questions.
The pen strokes stopped.
Silence filled the room.
Mia stared at the page.
Her hands trembled.
"Who's there?" she whispered.
No answer came.
But a cold breeze suddenly swept through the cottage.
The candle flame flickered.
Then went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
---
A soft knock came from the front door.
Three slow taps.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Mia's breath caught.
The village outside was silent.
Too silent.
The knock came again.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
She approached the door carefully.
"Who is it?"
No response.
The knocking stopped.
After several seconds, Mia gathered enough courage to open the door.
No one stood outside.
The street was empty.
Moonlight spilled across the cobblestones.
Then she looked down.
A folded piece of paper rested on the doorstep.
Mia picked it up.
The paper contained only four words.
Written in the same shaky handwriting as the journal.
They're forgetting already.
A chill raced through her body.
For a moment she didn't understand.
Then she remembered Emily's final entry.
The village made people forget.
Not just the people outside.
Everyone.
Eventually.
Suddenly Mia thought of her mother.
The color of her mother's eyes.
The sound of her laugh.
Her favorite song.
Mia opened her mouth to answer.
And realized—
She couldn't remember the song.
Not even a single note.
The paper slipped from her fingers.
And far above the village, inside the dark window of the clock tower, a shadowy figure smiled.
- Writer
