Tick tock, tick tock, the clock clanked loudly in the old house, dust settled on it, an air of abandonment permeated the old building, along with a faint scent of decay, the wall paper peeled off the walls, and mice lived in the old sofa, birds fluttered in the rafters. Feet thumped up the stairs in the hall, the light of a flashlight cut through the musty darkness, showing the dust motes in the air. Soft young voices giggle and whisper as they enter the hall, the dusty carpet muffles their footsteps. One by one, three school children, looking around 10-12 peek around the corner. 

"It's creepy here, I wanna go home" whined the smallest "Shh" said the one with the flashlight "Mice!" Said the one in the middle. ¨Where?¨ the smallest grabbed the one in the middle, "There" The one in the middle points to the couch. The flashlight kid sighs, "They won't hurt you, C'mon." The smallest frowns, "Why is the clock still ticking? Don't clocks need to be wound?" The children fall silent, then one by one they scramble for the door, the flashlight kid stops, then goes up to the clock, they pull open the door, and look inside, then they're dragged into the clock by unseen hands. The two other children never left the house either, they never even made it back down the stairs. But their screams, oh their screams could be hear from the attic to the basement. And the old clock just kept on ticking.