Prologue

An owl hooted. A wolf howled. Animals of the night scurried beneath their homes, too afraid of the outside world. It was a bird box full of questions, but no answers. As the wind howled out its prayers for survival, other things instead chose to accept fate and attempt to perish. The leaves on the ground even stopped their rustling, as they laid down in silence, digging themselves into sidewalk cracks until they were split in half, quarters even. Whispers from the trees were blown along by the wind, shutting windows and departing petals from their buds. No sane entity of any kind wanted to be seen or sensed at this time of night. Even the clock stayed silent, quietly ticking but being overcome by the faintest sounds of heavy breathing and fear looming the mist around it.

It was a scene not even a film director with a million fans could duplicate, for even at this era and at this stage of technology this place still retained its ability to not be copied. Although many have tried to survive going into this place, most of them went the same way they came. No one went more than a few feet inside. Although all there was to be scared about was the image that you created in your head. Reality can't change what you put in your head, and that's what causes this place to be so bare, to have no pleasantness. No one has lived happily here unless they were a psychopath in which their ignorance caused them to perish.

In school, they'll never teach you how to survive in a place like this, because you know what they teach you? Estimations, an unreliable history of dead people. However, the reason you'll never hear about this place is that no one's made it back to tell the story. This place doesn't even have a history for all we know. It's just something that could've come from a ufo, or some other insane hypothesis. No one knows how this place came to be, why it was made and why it was even here, and why it stirs up curiosity in the hearts of everyone that has ever heard even a slight made up rumor about it.

The clocks here are no different, with their eerie vibrations and their ticking obsession. Think of it like you, in which I assume you're a human. You have the tendency to walk, socialize, sit, play, laugh. Unless you're reading this again, in which your tendencies comply with our tendencies, quiet or loud, sleepy or awake, you're just not a normal everyday person. The clocks are like you, when they're out in a human home, they tick loudly and usually are touched up to look their best. Here, it's just a plain clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Although it's plain, it applies to our complications. Quiet, not seen, and not heard for a thousand miles. It's quiet, and the only time it'll be heard is when it's the witching hour, in which everything stops, things go still, and the night grows in darkness.

Nothing could be heard at that hour but the sound of crickets, oblivious to such silence. Only the light pads of smooth rain striking the concrete sidewalk in a motionless pattern. As the sword of lightning sliced its way through the trees, the rumble of thunder shook them. Overall, the aesthetic contributed nothing but silence and sorrow. As invisible hands weaved the chain of darkness it soon wrapped around this place like a noose, as it slowly tightened itself and made for grim warnings and shadows alike. Only, this place wasn't as bad as it seemed. Although giving off the mysterious vibe, this place was peaceful, peaceful enough where it could even be considered a place. However, shadows don't just come and go here, they come for a reason, and a shadow appeared in the moon's luminescence, it interrupted the silence and the peace, in front of a door so red, it resembled deep, crimson blood, and if you analyzed it long enough, you could almost see it drip at your feet.

For a second, the shadow hesitated, remembering what it was going to do and what the purpose was of coming to this strange town.

A breeze flew by, sweeping the shadow off its feet and for a second, it blended into the shadow of the moon. The shadow then rose again, this time darker then it was before, and it whispered to itself.

Eventually, the shadow extended its arms and exposed what had been hidden inside.

A small, silky red bundle was placed on the doormat from the hands of the shadow.

"Be safe, my child," the shadow whispered as it placed a letter near the bundle. After seconds, nirvana was achieved once more.

A bark broke the silence, quickly followed by others, layering as if they were logs stacked simultaneously. Unharmonious was the sound, sour, and piercing, but it fulfilled its purpose. The shadow looked raised and scrambled to its feet and sprinted. The Big Ben struck four, bellowing its gongs, but only a woman's screams could be heard echoing from deep inside the forest.