Let me tell you a story. It’s not a long one, nor is it a short one. It involves a house, and who or what lived in it. Listen closely.
In the beginning, there were three. Three girls, three dreams, three swiftly beating hearts. No one remembers their names, only what happened. They were alone in the world. The oldest was the closest thing the middle and youngest girls had to a mother. All they had was the contents of the rucksacks they carried with them, a lofty old house, and their magic. Yes, you heard me right. They were witches, and good ones, too.
On the day it all began, they had rested their bags beside them on the front step. The oldest had rummaged in her pockets for the key to the front door. She hesitated, then unlocked it. They stepped inside and looked around. The foyer was surprisingly free of dust for a house so old. The oldest noticed it but dismissed it. The middlest thought it was suspicious. The youngest, however, only thought of exploring as soon as she’d found a bedroom bigger than the other two and called dibs.
There began a ticking in the basement.
.....
The next couple of days went by rather quickly. The lofty old house came back to life under the hands of the sisters. They filled the rooms with light and laughter. The eldest spent most of her time in the library while the middlest annoyed her constantly. The youngest made it her goal to find all of the house’s secrets. She searched out every one, found every hidden room and every key that unlocked it. All except for one. You had to go down several crumbling flights of stairs to reach it, and the door itself was old, the hinges rusted. Strange noises came from behind it. Faint growling and hoofbeats. An ominous rustling. And a ticking, slowly counting off the seconds. The youngest took a book and a lantern down to the door once and sat there, seeing how long the ticking would go on before it stopped. It didn’t. She stayed there all day, reading with her back against the door, listening. For some time, it seemed like the ticking was right on the other side of the door, listening to her. That made her uncomfortable. She showed up to dinner early, having left the basement to its ticking. There was something about it that she just didn’t like. All the while, the ticking went on, growing a little louder every day.
.....
One evening, when both of her sisters were asleep, the youngest tiptoed down the creaking staircases, one by one, until she and her fragile puddle of lamplight stood in front of the basement door. She looked down at her feet, unsure, and spotted something unusual. There, at long last, was the key, a simple thing lying there between her bare feet. Slowly, she crouched to pick it up, not entirely sure what she was seeing was real. It was, and it sat there in her hand, silent and still. Before she could pause to rethink, she’d slid it into the lock and turned it. The door swung open, oddly silent on its rusty hinges. The pleasant fragrance of flowers and the sound of birdsong came out to meet her. Mesmerized, she put the lantern down and stepped through the door. The ceiling stretched up as far as she could see, filtering the light to a soft green lit by occasional shards of gold. She gasped in wonder, jumping in surprise as a colorful macaw landed gently on her shoulder. It cocked its head at her, willing her onward. The grass was soft and welcoming under her feet. The vines seemed to pull away in front of her until she reached a clearing. There was a rustling among the trees ahead of her. Something was coming. Slowly, like a lazily turning page, it stepped into the clearing. Sunlight glinted off of its mane and idly twitching tail. There before her stood a winged horse, like it had just stepped out of a storybook. She gasped, then laughed, walking forward until she stood an arms-length away from it. It bowed its head. She ran her hand along its silky forehead down to its nose. Its light blue eyes glittered back at her, decorated with a smattering of gold like a twilight sky full of stars. Slowly, as if not to frighten her, it knelt, lowering its wings. The girl didn’t hesitate. She climbed on behind its powerful shoulders, grinning. The horse stood, looked back at her for one second, then leapt into the air. With a cry of delight, the macaw came with them, up into the leaf-lit sunshine. Somewhere far behind them, the door began to close until the forgotten lantern sat alone in the dark, the flame flickering with no one to comfort it.
.....
The next morning at breakfast, the middle and oldest sisters sat down together to eat, wondering where their sister was. Eventually, they came to the conclusion that she had simply gone exploring again. She’d be back by lunch, both thought. And they forgot about it until lunch time came and went. There was no sign of their sister. The middle sister dismissed it.
“She’ll come for dinner. You’ll see.” The oldest nodded, pretending to believe her until she left the room. Underneath, she was so concerned that it threatened to drown her mind. Packing a sandwich in each pocket — one for her, one for her sister — she armed herself with a lantern and the keyring that’d come with the house and set off. All day she searched, marking each room she looked through until she reached the last one at the bottom of many crumbling staircases. The youngest’s lantern sat where she had left it in front of the closed door. Fearing the worst, the oldest tried the knob. Locked. She knocked on the door.
“Come out! It’s not funny anymore. You’ve had your joke, now please come out.” No answer. Determined, she sat on the bottom step, staring at the door. Fine. I’ll sit here until you come out, then. The ticking behind the door kept time for her, waiting.
.....
The oldest woke up, surfacing from a dream full of ticking and strange forests. She looked around then checked her watch. Night had fallen. The only light was the lantern she’d brought with her. Her sister’s had long since burned out. The oldest frowned at the dark lantern, worried. She reached to pick up her own and stopped. There was a key in the pool of light around it, one she was sure had not been there when she’d come down the stairs earlier. She gingerly picked it up then inserted it in the lock. Once again, the door swung silently open. There was a forest beyond it, but this one was different. A chilly mist crept along the ground and swirled around the tops of the giant mushrooms that grew like trees everywhere. Shivering, she reached for her lantern, then decided against it. It would alert any surrounding monster in that strange forest to her presence. Slowly, she stepped forward, jumping at mysterious noises that echoed eerily in the mist around her. She kept hearing a very small voice, so soft she thought she was hallucinating the first few times. It seemed to be everywhere. First on one side, then the other. She couldn’t make out what it was saying, but the sound of it was familiar. My sister! She stood still, listened until the voice spoke again, then took off after it. It lead her back and forth through the mist, sometimes in circles, until she came to a clearing lit by a few shards of sunlight. The mist had cleared slightly as she walked. Shivering, she stood there, listening. Suddenly, there was a ticking. There was nothing, and then it started. It echoed strangely on all sides, conjuring pictures of horrendous beasts in her mind. Something stepped out of the swirling mist. It walked toward her, and as it did, the ticking grew louder. Second by second, step by step, until it was roaring in her ears as loudly as her racing heart. It had a long, lean face. That was all she could see. It reared, spreading a pair of dark, dreadful wings...then lunged. Her scream was cut off, fading back into the silence until it was as if she’d never been there.
A lone dark feather floated to the ground.
.....
The sun came up the next day as if nothing had happened. The middlest girl, completely oblivious, came down for breakfast as usual, not noticing that neither of her sisters had returned until she’d finished eating. She thought for a moment, then decided what she was going to do. She was going to track down her sisters and stop whatever captured them.
It took her most of the day to search the house, and by the time she’d found the entrance to the crumbling stairways, night was falling. She lit her lantern then cautiously descended down into the dark, leaving a floating candle behind her on each flight so she could find her way back. If she came back, a little voice whispered in the back of her mind. She shoved it away and continued onward. Down, down, down, she spiraled, until the stairs ran out and she stood in front of an old door with rusty hinges. It was locked, even when she tried opening it with magic. Nothing worked. She sat down on the bottom step of the stairs and stared at the door, thinking. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, she watched a key appear in the puddle of light around her lantern. Startled, she scooted back, suddenly seeing the whole picture.
There were both of her sisters’ lanterns. Both had gone out. This was what the house had been hiding all along. The twisting passageways, all the locked doors that each had a different key, formed an elaborate maze that held a terrifying secret at the end.
And it has my sisters. Without a moment of hesitation, she snatched up the key and slammed it into the lock, hand clutching her wand in her pocket. The door slowly swung open. She rushed forward, prepared for the worst, then stopped. Towering redwoods had sprung up around her, reaching up towards the canopy high above her head. But they had no leaves. Instead, hundreds of clocks hung from their branches so that the air was filled with ticking. The sight was oddly beautiful. Hoofbeats thudded in the distance. She dove behind a tree, waiting to see what lived in this strange clockwork forest. It came closer and closer until a winged horse stepped into the sunlight, shaking its head. A slim figure dismounted, and she had to stop herself from crying out. My little sister! The winged horse took off, turning in the air before flying off the way it had come. She waited until it was gone before running toward her sister. The little girl turned and smiled.
“You made it! We’ve been expecting you.” The middlest was confused.
“We? What are you talking about?” Her little sister pointed into the air behind her.
“They will tell you.” And with that, she disappeared. The middlest whirled around. Three winged horses touched down, their hooves barely flattening the ferns. Two stood back, while the one in the center stepped forward. It seemed to be their leader. It inclined its head in a bow, then looked down its nose at her. She hastily curtsied. Suddenly a voice boomed in her head.
Welcome. She stepped back, startled.
You can get inside my head? The leader whinnied, almost laughing.
Of course. We’re not like normal horses at all. They are merely...how do you say...distant cousins. We, on the other hand... It stepped into a shadow cast by the tall redwoods. ...are very different.
She gasped. The beautiful white coat it had sported a few seconds ago had vanished. In its place was something straight out of a nightmare. Black spread like ink spilling, revealing the truth underneath the lie. It had a lean skeletal face, and its wings had dark ragged feathers like a raven’s. A few tarnished pocket watches hung around its bony neck, one of which she recognized.
“What have you done with my sisters?” It bared razor sharp teeth in an unmistakable smile. A grating laugh echoed in her mind.
Don’t worry. We’ll keep her safe. Your little sister, too. She brandished her wand at them.
“Give them back!” It shook its head, spreading its wings.
Come now. That’s no way to ask nicely. Let’s try again, shall we? She growled.
“I’m done asking nicely!”
With two flicks of her wand, she’d neatly hobbled the leader’s guards and clipped their wings. They squealed in anger, thrashing frantically in an attempt to escape. She turned to face the leader and stumbled backward. Vines had grown around her ankles, tethering them to the ground. Before she could sever them, she was pinned to the ground, a hoof on each shoulder. The leader’s breath blew her hair back, filling her mind with the endless ticking of time and the power of things that were as old as the earth itself. She grew very cold, staring the monster down, daring it to look away. Its raspy voice spoke once more in her mind.
You’re a brave little thing, I’ll give you that. But you will never beat me. You cannot stop time. You cannot escape it. It is always there, counting down your days until there are no more. Now, brave one, your time is up.
Unnoticed, she raised her wand and pointed it at the monster’s heart.
“So is your’s.”
Her spell did not miss. Neither did the monster’s. She defeated time, but didn’t live to enjoy it. The spells binding the other two creatures broke, and they flew off as fast as their wings could carry them. The clearing was silent once more, empty except for three pocket watches. Unnoticed, the door slowly closed, leaving three lanterns to sit in the dark. One by one, the candles winked out. The ticking behind the door slowed until there was silence. Dust settled over everything, undisturbed. Many years went by.
.....
A key turned in the lock of the front door. A man and his wife stepped into the foyer, smiling at one another, excited for a new chapter of their lives.
There began a ticking in the basement.
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