It wasn't unusual for a visitor to appear out of curiosity, after all, the old house appeared abandoned. Now, that wasn't to say it looked terribly rugged, but the lights were never on, seemingly, or that could have been because of the fact that each window had curtains blocking anyone's view of the inside, keeping to a darker color, but it was hard to tell with how the trees nearby caused further shade and difficulty in interpreting the surrounding area.
Now, imagine this visitor is you, coming closer to the door out of curiosity. You put your ear up to the door, wondering if anyone's alive in there, only to come to the odd sound of ticking, as if thousands of clocks were kept locked up inside.
Fumbling with the knob, you let yourself in, realizing it was neither unlocked, nor were there any lights on, leaving you to depend on the constant ticks that cause the air itself to have a tangible vibration to it, assuming the clocks would be against some sort of wall, and therefore, all you have to do is keep to the center of the room, or as much as you can figure of a center.
And as moonlight creeps in, each item within becomes more visible. There is a beautiful wristwatch fashioned with a stone that shines in a multitude of colors, even the face being fashioned like this, while the circle that separates the rest of the watch from its face is gold, roman numerals etched into it as to not interrupt the stone. Coming closer, there is metal linked together in a particular way as to keep the wrist flexible.
Not in bad taste, really. It looks rather expensive. Glancing around, you can now see a multitude of clocks, which appear to be antiques. Those analog clocks, which were usually mounted on a hearth? - They were scattered about, along with some others, but they were drenched in the shadows that seemed to plague this house due to bad lighting, making them eerie figures in the background instead of innocent devices.
Climbing each stair, you can't help but keep note of the paintings on the walls, becoming nearly transfixed at their gazing back at you. The ticks from downstairs echo here, making it as if each painting also has its own sound, but that couldn't be the case, could it? But with the repetitive ticking, it isn't long before you became paranoid of that possibility.
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