It was a memorable summer. Not because of the things we did, or the holidays we did not go on but because of a clock. It was not an ordinary clock. First of all, it was tall… taller than Appa. Its dark wooden case gleamed in the sunlight, and a brass pendulum swung gently inside. On the top was a beautiful carved rhododendron. It was a grandfather clock.

“I got it cheap,” announced Appa cheerfully.

He paused for effect. Our faces were blank. It was too big a surprise to take in. Amma recovered first.

“But, Sundar, where will we place it?” she asked. It was too big for our house.

“Not to worry. I have it all figured out.”

Two burly men carried the clock and put it in our drawing room. There it stood smiling benignly at us. From the first day, the clock made me uncomfortable. Whenever I walked past it, a cold shiver crept up my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Once, I could have sworn the pendulum paused as if it was weighing me up.

Thirteenth chime

One night, a big storm blew in. The wind howled through the trees, lightning streaked the sky, and thunder sounded so close we thought it would break down the house. Then, in the lull, our clock began to chime the midnight hour. Lying awake, I counted the chimes… 11, 12 and then 13. I did not have time to assimilate this fact, as there was a piercing wail; a cry of distress. Instinctively, I knew it was something to do with the clock. I ran into the drawing room and was just in time to see the tail of our pet cat, Sizzler, disappearing into the clock. I looked up at the clock face and, believe it or not, it was smiling.

Another day, a bird flew in. It chirped merrily, flying in and out of the rooms. All of a sudden, we heard a squawk, and then there was silence. A few feathers fluttered down from the clock.

Things came to a head when we heard our Labrador, Pickles, yowling. Appa, Amma, Lali, and I ran to the grandfather clock. Pickles was being sucked into it. It smiled evilly down at us. There was no time to waste. We had to save Pickles. We jumped on him and dragged him away. It was a tough fight. But we managed to save him.

“Sundar, the clock has to go,” said my mother, sweat running down her flushed face. We nodded in agreement.

“But…” began Appa.

The clock began to strike… ding, dong, ding, dong… As it continued we could hear the words “I WILL NOT GO! I WILL NOT GO!”