Jillian Chantal

The word of the week this week for the authors of Tuesday Tales is clock. I am still in my paranormal book.

Check out the other tales here.

Feeling silly as she normally wasn’t superstitious and didn’t really believe in anything paranormal, she called out, “Attention anyone here who thinks making those banging noises is going to scare me off, this is now my house and I’m going to be moving in soon. You can share the place peacefully with me or I’ll find a priest to oust you. Let’s get along, okay?”

She laughed at herself for being an idiot, but since there was no banging sound, she felt even safer than she did when she turned on the lights. If there was still a vagrant or squatter here, they must be gone. She still hadn’t been in the downstairs rooms and figured she might find evidence of such a person there. That has to be the explanation for the sounds Alice and I heard. I’m sure of it.

Even though she told herself that, she was still a big daunted about going into the attic alone. What if there’s another snake there? Get over yourself. If you’re going to live here, you have to not be afraid to be here.

She made it up the second flight of stairs—the one that led to the attic room that fascinated her—in almost a dream-like state. The silence was eerie. Sophronia pulled on her earlobes just to be sure they still worked to let in sound.

A cuckoo clock went off at that moment, startling Sophronia. She let out a little squeal. “Stop it. It’s just a clock.”

She opened the door to the turret, turned on the light, and entered. The book was not on the floor where she left it.

Panicked that someone had been in there and stole it even though she herself couldn’t take it out of the room, Sophronia’s eyes darted around the room. Desperately seeking the volume. If it was gone, her heart would break. She knew it.

But there it was. On the podium where it was when she first saw it.

“How did you get back up there?” She asked, feeling silly again. Talking to a book. Good grief.