Ticking Mechanism

Night brought quiet. I moved along the crown molding, avoiding the broad floor entirely. On the wooden mantel rested an old brass mantle clock. Its pendulum swung behind bevelled glass, cutting a steady rhythm into the dark. I climbed behind its curved wooden frame, finding a narrow gap concealed from below. Inside, small interlocking gears clicked softly. I extended two fingers, testing the cold edge of an exterior winding key lodged in its rear slot. It did not budge. The mechanism is locked and consistent. From this perch, every doorway remains in view. A dependable redoubt.