She flew around the clocks that surrounded her. As her wings fluttered, she listened as they ticked. She smiled as her heart clicked in time with the clocks. They were large and small, fancy and plain, old and young. There were so many that she could never know how many there were. It didn’t matter, all clocks had to be wound. Everyone was cherished.
She frowned as she heard a slow tick out of sequence with the rest. The sound of her flapping wings echoed as she urgently flew through the valley trying to find the offender. She found the large oak clock, barely ticking. She reached out to wind it, but the arm was stuck. She pulled on the arm bracing her legs against the clock face, but nothing happened. Finally, the clock stopped.
All of the clocks stopped ticking as he rode in on a pale horse. His spindly hands reached out and grabbed the frozen clock. His fleshless
face grinned silently as he slipped it into his black bag. She had wanted to save it, but she had been too late. He rode away leaving a cloud of black dust in his wake.
The clocks started to tick again, but her heart felt only pain. A piece of her was lost. Soon, other clocks began to slow, but she could only think of the face she could not save. Her ticking heart stopped and the valley filled with silence.
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