Pendulum Swing

A rhythmic thud led me past the shadow of the couch to the heavy wood base of the grandfather clock. The small maintenance hatch at the back was slightly unlatched. I nudged the warped pine door open with the flat of my knife. Inside, the massive brass pendulum swept through the dim upright chamber, inches from my shoulder. Its rhythmic click vibrated through my joints. Near the internal weights, a spent steel cotter pin lay trapped in a cobweb. I waited through three slow swings, timed the pendulum's crest, reached in, and pulled the pin free before the heavy brass swayed back.