The clock

"tick, tick, tick" went the clock as the pendulum swung, the little brass men lifted their little brass hammers, and struck the bell at opposite times to the chime of twelve.

the sound carried in the little green wallpapered room. Awaking it's only occupant in a iron framed bed. He opened his eyes, as the sharp pain through his head, the room was dark, no windows are lights. "We're am I" the man grumbled to himself, the last he remembered was riding his horse.

the stallion was carrying him from the north to the south, a lettered he carried for some rich fellow. He felt his pockets let letter was their, so we're the coins that was paid as the fair. A post man's duty was to deliver the mail safely. But when some dark object slammed into him the journey had abruptly ended.

in the little room he found a lantern next to the bed, sitting up he fumbled slightly, the pain in his head, managed to lite the lamp with a little box of matches. The warm light was danced from the flame behind the glass, alighting the small bed room.

there was a door, a metal door, that stood ominously at the far end of the room. A desk and a chair, and empty fire place, and a old brass clock on the mantle place.

quickly the post man acted, going to the door, the handle would turn but it gave no more. The small metal slide at the bottom suddenly opened and the blue eyes of a child stared at him. "Excuse me, but can you let me out?" The postman asked. The eyes blinked at him and the door was slammed shut.

a few moments later a tray was pushed through, a bowl of thick grey soup and a hunk of bread. At first he was unsure as to what it was he was given, it tasted like mold and the bread crumbled like dust "excuse me, your hospitality is appreciated but I would rather be let out."

every day when the clock struck twelve, food was delivered, the lantern ran out of oil but that didn't matter. He waited by the door, like a dog on all fours, begging for the door to be opened, he just wanted to leave. When the food was pushed through he would beg and plead, but no response came from those behind, just the consistent ticking, ticking, ticking of the clock.

then one day something seemed different, the air had changed in the little green room, the door stood ajar, and the light form the moonlight spilled from the hall, illuminating his way. He couldn't remember the last time he walked as he wandered down the halls, dressed in only in his smock

then came the chanting and a circle of fiends. All dressed in black as they stood around a stone table. Their eyes were all blue, and spoke in one voice, "lay on the table, you have not choice" the postman stood, planting his feet on the floor, the had not broken him through their torcher.

then one man walked over and grabbed him roughly by the shoulder. With a slam his head met the table, screaming and yelling they dragged him onto the table. "Tonight my brethren we shall feast and we shall dine." "Your sick" yelled the postman through his mouth of bloody broken teeth at the man sitting at the head of the table. "Have no fear, you will not feel a thing, and then you shall partake at the next feast with your brethren."

several years later a young woman walked into the same cold dining room. Fear as her heart beat in her breast, as men dressed in black robes watched her with hungry blue eyes, the post man among them making only one noise "tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick." It was time for dinner.