She pulled the clock from the wall. Behind it was a hollow space, and inside that hollow space was a notebook. The cover read: THE PENDELTON CHRONICLES - DO NOT READ ALOUD.
The clock was still. The gears had stopped. The blue core had dimmed to a soft, steady glow. And Silas Vane was gone. In his place was a single photograph on the floor: a young girl with pigtails, laughing at something out of frame.
The first night was uneventful. She unpacked her suitcases, ordered pizza from the only place that delivered (a twenty-mile drive), and slept in her uncle's old four-poster bed. The second night, she heard it. the house with a clock in its walls putlocker
She read it aloud.
She pressed her ear to the wall. Nothing. She went back to sleep. She pulled the clock from the wall
It was massive. Fifteen feet tall, made of a metal that shimmered like oil on water. Its face was a map of the night sky, with constellations instead of numbers. And in the center, where the hands met, was a glowing blue core—the star fragment, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Behind it was a staircase leading down into darkness. The air that wafted up smelled like old copper and lightning storms. The staircase descended for what felt like hours. Nora used her phone's flashlight, but the beam barely cut through the gloom. Finally, she reached a circular chamber. The walls were lined with gears—thousands of them, from tiny brass cogs to iron wheels the size of wagon tires. They turned slowly, grinding against each other, and in the center of the room stood the clock. The clock was still
Nora freezes. "Who was your great-uncle?"