The Grandfather Clock
“Come on, girls, put your back into it!” Helen Barker called out her front door, snickering under her breath. Just outside labored two men in the dry heat of the summer, struggling to lift an old grandfather clock out of the bed of their truck. “You’re so tough, come get it yourself!” Snapped Reginald Blackwater, one of the men. Reginald -- who would much prefer that you call him Reggie -- was a short and stout man in his early-thirties. He was what you might call a bit of a couch potato, as he would rather laze around in front of the television and munch on some chips than work up a sweat down at the gym -- though, the latter would most definitely be in his better interest. “Aw, calm down Regina!” Smirked Markus Viet, the other pair of hands in this situation. Markus was the opposite of Reginald, to say the least. He had reached the staggering height of six feet and zero inches by the time he was twelve -- and had grown at least another foot since then, as he was now in his late-twenties. Markus was a well-built man with a go-get-`em attitude, and had been in a relationship with Miss Helen Barker -- also in her late-twenties -- for a little over six months. Reginald and Markus had been friends since elementary school, and certainly showed no signs of faltering now.
After a bit of grumbling and more than a fair amount of heavy breathing, the old grandfather clock was finally removed from its rather uncomfortable place in the bed of Reginald’s truck and into Helen’s cool home. “You be careful with that!” Helen all but shrieked, spotting Reginald’s look of consideration -- and that look of consideration, to her, said, “If I just drop this…” “Aw, what’s the big deal, Helen? It’s just a dumb old clock!” Reginald snapped, earning a sharp glare from the woman. “That was my father’s grandfather clock, thank you! It has been in the Barker family for longer than this stupid town has been in existence and is worth far more than you!” Helen declared, stomping her foot firmly on the floor as she drooped her head. Helen’s father had been laid to rest just a few days ago, thanks to a valiant battle with lung cancer. Markus shot an incredulous look to his friend, who merely shrugged in turn. “Now, hun, it’s okay. Reggie didn’t mean that, it was just the heat -- and this thing isn’t the lightest of objects, so . . . ?” Markus began, hoping the woman would take the hint and drop Reginald’s comment. “Oh, alright. Just . . . set it in that corner, please?” Helen replied with a small sniffle, pointing to a lonesome corner in the living room.
Before long, the grandfather clock was in place and the trio sat down at the kitchen table for some fresh lemonade. With the house perfectly quiet, save for the beautifully haunting ticking of the alarm clock in the distance and the conversation and laughter in the dining room, it was almost startling how quickly time seemed to fly. It seemed, to them, that the sun had just been beating down on them a minute ago! The moon couldn’t be out already . . . ? Ah, and we all know the effects of the night and the trouble it can stir.
“I just don’t get it.” Markus sighed, reclining in his chair. “Damien was such a healthy guy; he never showed any signs of lung cancer.” He remarked, regarding Helen’s father. “Maybe it was the Barker family curse?” Reginald chuckled. “Now, Reggie, don’t start that again.” Markus pleaded. Ever since Reginald had met Helen, a few years ago, he had gotten his little mind set on the idea that there was some sort of curse on the Barker family. Those who had descended from Maria Barker -- who was Helen’s great-great-great-great-grandmother -- seemed to die of some sudden, unpredicted death. Helen’s father: lung cancer. His father: strangulation. His mother: a nasty fall down the stairs. Her mother: overdose on sleeping pills. Her mother: stabbed during a fencing lesson gone awry. “What? I’m just saying! It’s not like he smoked, or anything.” Reginald muttered, folding his meaty arms across his chest. Helen rolled her eyes, unable to fight off a smirk. She had always found the concept of curses -- even blessings! -- to be utterly ridiculous. Honestly, she saw no harm in speaking about it whatsoever. Markus, on the other hand, was a superstitious fellow, and seemed to be rather concerned about his girlfriend. The trio sat in silence for some time and, just when Helen was about to break it, Reginald’s phone rang. With a sigh, he excused himself and stepped out into the hall.
A few minutes later, Reginald returned with something of an irritated expression. “Everything alright?” Markus inquired. “No.” Reggie replied with a huff, shaking his head. “Well, what’s wrong?” Helen asked, all but jumping out of her seat with concern. “I’m married to a dragon -- that’s what’s wrong.” Reginald replied, causing a bit of laughter between Markus and Helen. “She wants me to run out to the store, grab some food, and cook her some amazing sort of dinner.” Reginald growled, finishing up his glass of lemonade. “Why don’t you go with him, Markus? You’ve been meaning to go and we do need a few things.” Helen suggested. Markus let out a groan as he threw his head back to glare at the ceiling, as though it were to blame for his girlfriend’s idea. When he looked back, however, he caught a rather pathetic look from his friend, who might as well have been on his hands and knees begging him to come along. “Fine.”
Reginald and Markus had been sent along within a matter of minutes, with separate lists of things to retrieve. And, so, Helen was left in her two-floor home . . . alone. Funny, how you could go from fearless woman to helpless child in a big house. As she sat in her living room on her nice, comfortable couch, she couldn’t help but think. Maybe it was the clock she had just obtained, ticking away? Perhaps it was Reginald’s lingering words about some preposterous family curse? The night? Maybe it was some sort of ridiculous combination of all of them? Whatever the case, the silence and the dark were beginning to get to her. Why didn’t she have a light on? Helen probably would have slapped herself, right then, had she not thought better of it. Her eyes shifted to the clock, then, only to widen in disbelief. Already, Reginald and Markus had been gone for an hour -- it was nine?! Helen shook her head and climbed to her feet, beginning to wonder where her day had gone, exactly. With a stretch and a yawn, she made her way upstairs for bed after checking to make sure all of the doors and windows were locked.
Not a half an hour after Helen’s decision to wait for her boyfriend upstairs -- as he had his own key, and would surely return before daybreak -- silence erupted downstairs. Everything seemed to stop; the typical rattling of every house, the creatures outside, even the new clock. But, alas, with the television on in her bedroom all the way upstairs, there was no way for Helen to note such a change.
Behind the now frozen, bronze pendulum, there was a bit of movement. A bit of talking. “Come along, now! Before he gets back!” Urged a hoarse voice, barely above a whisper. The owner of the voice was a small creature, no taller than the length of your average light-socket cover. His skin resembled the look and feel of wrinkled leather, though perhaps a bit lighter in color. Two dark, beady eyes were all but buried in his forehead and tucked away behind a thick pair of half-moon glasses. Atop his full head of snowy white hair was a purple cap, which appeared to be made of a felt-like material. Appearing to be at least in his late sixties, the little man held the pushed the pendulum to the side, so that those behind him might exit a bit more easily. One by one, what could have been an entire army of these little creatures filed out of the case of the grandfather clock, gathering outside the clock and waiting for further instruction. The last creature the little man had to hold the pendulum aside for was a good bit taller than the rest -- at least six inches in height. This one, also masculine in appearance, seemed to be a bit younger. Black hair swirled about his head and came to rest at his shoulders, framing his bitter-looking facial features. His eyes, of equal darkness, appeared to be almost hollow, void of any emotion whatsoever. He, like the rest of the creatures, was dressed in battle attire.
“Go along, Styx.” The taller man ushered, motioning for the smaller man to run along and join the others with a long, bony hand. Styx gave a respectful bow before releasing the pendulum, carefully, and heading down to the carpet. The taller man left the case of the grandfather clock and stood before the mass of creatures, hands folded behind his back in a dignified manner. “You all know the drill, by now. The woman is upstairs in her chambers, possibly asleep.” The man stated simply, his voice loud enough to carry to those before him, but quiet enough so as not to stray to the woman’s ears. In the silence, one of the creatures cleared his throat and stepped forth, bowing slightly to the man before him prior to speaking. “My Lord, Thanatos, if you would be so kind as to remind us all . . . what is the plan, for this one?” The smaller man asked, looking sheepishly up to what appeared to be their leader. Lord Thanatos gave a dark chuckle, followed by a nod. “Forgotten already, have you, Moros?” He grinned, exposing several rows of sharp teeth. Moros bowed his head, but nodded before stepping back into the mass of other creatures. “This one is to be strung from the rafters -- made to look like a hanging.” Thanatos explained, giving a small shrug. There was a brief murmur amongst the crowd before they silenced once again, awaiting orders. “Any further questions? No? Very well, then. To the woman’s chambers.” Thanatos ordered, almost politely, with something of a devious smile behind his words.
For such small creatures, it was almost alarming how quickly they were able to trek their way from the living room and up all 30 steps to the woman’s chamber. Never mind the fact that none of them could fly or had any sort of wheels so that they might move faster!
Upon reaching Helen’s bedroom, they were met with the door cracked open just enough for even the fattest of the creatures to squeeze through unnoticed and the lights off. “I hear something.” Whispered one of the men, towards the back. “It’s just one of those magic boxes.” Replied another, shrugging it off. “I hear it’s called a `television`, and it traps human souls inside it and makes them act out their lives inside it.” Said a third, almost worried. “Glad I’m not a human.” Muttered the first.
“Alright, men. Let’s make this quick!” Ushered Thanatos, at the head of the group, motioning for the others to march forth. And they might have had they not seen the woman in the bed stare straight at them. Thanatos, struck by their lack of movement, followed the gaze of one of the men to find the same sense of horror. “What on Earth . . . ?” Helen muttered to herself, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands in disbelief. This had to be one of those half-asleep hallucinations, right? When she opened her eyes once again, the little creatures were closer than they had been before. It was quiet for some time, as they looked back at one another; Helen at them with fascination, them at Helen with horror. “What do we do, Thanatos?” Inquired one of the men from the side of his mouth in a hushed tone, hoping that the woman wouldn’t hear them. “Isn’t Thanatos the Greek God of Death?” Helen murmured, looking between the creatures with great curiosity. Here, Thanatos smirked and returned his attention to the moment, for it had deflected to the man who had spoken, earlier. In the blink of an eye, Thanatos had gone from being a few feet away on the wooden floor, to standing on Helen’s knee with his head held at a side. “Why, yes, madam, as a matter of fact, he was.” He replied with a grin. “I am Thanatos -- God of Death, as many have taken to calling me.” He added with a deep bow, his dark eyes locked on those of the woman. The response he got was not one that he had wanted, though; laughter. “Oh, I’m definitely dreaming.” Helen muttered between laughs, shaking her head a little. “I’m dreadfully sorry, madam, but you are not.” Thanatos spoke up, almost irritated. Helen returned her attention to the creature with an incredulous look on her tired features. She looked as though she were about to speak once again when Thanatos beat her to it, once again. “You recall your great-great-great-great grandmother, Maria Barker?” He began, earning a nod from the woman. “Well, she made a deal with us -- I mean, me, a while back. It had been her turn to, well, part from this world, you see -- at such a young age, too. It was a shame, really, and I wasn’t certain that I’d even wanted to do it in the first place. When I came to her, she all but begged me to give her a little while longer. During her pleads, she promised to give me anything and everything else I wanted -- so long as I let her live with her newly found love in health until they both reached old age. Among those things was a grandfather clock. Not just any grandfather clock, either -- a magical one, made as a link between your world and mine. The one that is downstairs in your living room, right now.” Thanatos paused, watching the woman’s look of disbelief turn to one more of thought and consideration. “Maria Barker cheated me, however. Once locked in that wretched grandfather clock, there was no means of escape until a full year in my world -- which is roughly equivalent to fifteen in yours. When I got out, I vowed to kill every direct descendant of Maria Barker . . . which leads us to you, my dear Helen.” Thanatos concluded, grinning once again. A chill chased down Helen’s spine at the sight of the dagger-like teeth, her heart beginning to leap in her chest. “H-how do you know my name?” She stuttered, her eyes flickering to the mass of creatures, which had gotten much closer again -- they were all now crowded at her bedside. “My dear, I’m a God! And one with a grudge, at that!” He replied, simply, with a chuckle.
Terror. Helen had never really known the word before. Hell, she had never believed in gods of any sort before, now! But, all of a sudden, she found both belief and terror sneaking into the chambers of her heart. Could these creatures possibly be real? Maybe. On the other hand, what if she was just dreaming all of this? That seemed more likely. But, still. With each blink, the creatures seemed to draw a bit closer. With each step they drew nearer, her heart rate jumped up a bit and she found herself paralyzed. One blink, they were on the edge of the bed. Second blink, she was surrounded. Third blink, she wouldn’t be able to put her arms out without knocking half of them off . . . if she could move her arms, anyway. Fourth blink . . . was that a rope in their hands? Just after the fifth blink, Helen opened her mouth to scream. But the only things that sounded were the laughter of the creatures and the scream, which sounded more like a wheeze, choking Helen. Oh, wait . . . it wasn’t that pathetic excuse for a scream that was choking her, it was that rope. How had they moved so quickly? Wait, how was she floating in the air? Oh, they were going to hang her! Tears streamed down Helen’s cheeks madly while her fingers moved in a vain attempt to remove the rope from her neck. “Please! Please, don’t do this! Please! Whatever you want, please!” She begged between sobs. “Plea--” Asphyxiation cut the woman off before she could finish her pleading. There came a bit of snickering amongst the men as they watched the life leave the woman. “Look at her feet twitch!” Snickered one, jumping up in an attempt to prod on of said feet. Amongst the crowd was a quiet girl -- one of the few females among the group. Her name was Oizys. Her deep blue eyes were fixed on the floor, her black hair conveniently hiding the shades of green taking over her pale features. “Something the matter, Oizys?” Inquired Thanatos, placing a hand on a shoulder of the young woman. She drew in a sharp breath before looking up to the man, shaking her head from side to side. “You look rather ill.” Thanatos remarked, looking upon Oizys with . . . what was it? Curiosity? Anger? “It’s no secret that you don’t like what we do, Oizys.” Thanatos shrugged, withdrawing his hand. “Then why do you insist on bringing me along? More importantly, why do you insist on doing any of this at all? You got your revenge long ago, Thanatos -- Maria had been dead for years. This woman did nothing to you!” Oizys snapped, earning a gasp from the crowd and a cruel smack across the face from Thanatos. “How dare you!” Thanatos hissed, showing not a sign of guilt. “Does anyone else detest what we have been doing here? Does anyone else find it . . . cruel, to punish those who shut us away from the world for so long?” Thanatos bellowed, looking amongst his followers with an emotion strongly resembling rage. One man stood forth, not quite as tall as Thanatos but taller than the majority of his comrades. It was Epiphron, long sought out amongst those present for guidance. Often neutral, Epiphron tended to think things through without predetermined thoughts. “I am sorry, Thanatos, but I believe I have remained quiet for far too long; Oizys is right, you are out of line.” He claimed simply, as though what he had just said had no more impact than telling a friend what the weather outside was like. “You, too, Epiphron? She- she locked us away!” Thanatos cried, looking through the crowd for a helpful face. After Epiphron had spoken, however, they seemed to have been thinking things through a bit more. “No, Thanatos. She locked you away -- you conned us into following you.” Epiphron replied hollowly, staring at the man with a blank expression. “Nemesis, what is your take on this?” Epiphron inquired, turning to one of the other woman. Nemesis was a vengeful woman who, though often careful, tended to let her bloodlust get in the way of thinking clearly. Needless to say, the thought of having been betrayed by a man whom she once thought of as a brother and a leader was rather irksome. “I say . . . an eye for an eye.” She said, simply, with a quaint little shrug. With the words of Nemesis, fate seemed to be sealed. The rest of the miniature army began to eye Thanatos hungrily, beginning to close the distance between him and them. Thanatos gulped and, true to the nature of a coward, began to flee. He got as far as the door before his brothers and sisters had their way with him. By the time they were finished, to a human, it would appear as though a rather large bug had been squished in the doorway and then scraped across the floor by the bottom of a shoe.
A rather dreary army of Greek gods had made their way downstairs as the grandfather clock downstairs was about ready to alert everyone that an hour had passed. As they began to file their way into the grandfather clock once again, with the oddly comforting knowledge that nothing of this sort would ever happen again, there was a fair amount of grief amongst the troupe; they had lost a brother and a leader, after all. “Epiphron, what shall we do, now?” Oizys inquired with wet eyes. “When we get back, we destroy the link. That is all. We move on.” Epiphron replied simply, giving an encouraging nod to Oizys, who nodded in agreement. “What happened was not your fault, Oizys. Thanatos got what was coming to him.” He assured, as though he could read the girl’s emotions. Oizys gave a small sniffle and shook her head. “No, I understand that. I only wish we could have done more for the Barker family.” She replied, glumly. To this, Epiphron was silent.
As promised, upon returning to their home, the link from the world of the gods to the humans within the grandfather clock was destroyed, and life moved on for them. But, what of Markus and his friend? Upon returning home, Markus discovered his frantic girlfriend waiting on the porch. She kept blabbering on about some little man named Iapetus bringing her back to life after some other little Greek gods had succeeded in hanging her. Markus, of course, thought little of it and assured her that it was nothing more than a dream -- though, he was curious about the dead bug in the bedroom doorway. What about Helen, though? Had any of that been real, at all? And, if so, was the link really destroyed? And, how would Iapetus get back?! Unless . . . unless, there were other links like that one . . . ? Unless.
