Clock

He turned the doorknob. The hinges creaked softly. He slowly entered the room, filled with the gray of the evening. He closed the door behind him and sat down heavily on the bed that stood against the sloping attic wall. The room was as it always had been; he couldn't remember anything having been changed. Not to mention renovated. Dirty yellow walls, a heavy pre-war wardrobe, a Socialist Realism-era bookcase, a fiberboard desk. As a child, he would often perch on the desk instead of a chair and swing his legs over the windowsill. Then he could almost touch the branch of the cherry tree growing under the window. He loved its scent, so he headed for the window and flung it open. The heavy, sweet scent of white flowers filled the room.

Adam took a deep breath, staring at the darkening sky, then turned and leaned against the edge of the desk. His gaze fell on the large, old clock that had always stood in the room. He didn't know where such a piece of furniture had come from. Solid hands slowly moved across the gilded dial, accompanied by a steady ticking. The copper pendulum swung merrily. Every hour, the clock chimed with a melodious, clear sound. Adam recalled his childhood fears. A dozen years ago, when he was a little boy, he believed in a hidden staircase behind the clock case. In his mind's eye, he saw a demon approaching him with each strike of the timepiece. The sound of the strike drowned out the heavy footsteps of the evil spirit. Each hour closed the distance between the monster and the small, frightened boy with a vivid imagination. That's why he disliked sleepless nights, during which he had the opportunity to count the rhythmic beats. Something of this fear remained with him to this day. He always felt uneasy when, unable to sleep, he counted the monotonous sounds from hour to hour.

This night wasn't looking good either. Adam was convinced that his tormenting thoughts would keep him awake again. He'd been nervous for several days, and whenever he found himself alone, he'd brooded over gloomy thoughts. Still, he decided to at least try to get some rest. He closed the window, which was already drenching with cold air, undressed without turning on the light, and snuggled under the covers. He lay staring at the sloping ceiling, his thoughts swirling chaotically in his head. He had no sense of time passing, but suddenly he realized it was completely dark. The black sky was shrouded in clouds, through which the moonlight occasionally barely filtered through. A gentle breeze swayed the branches covered in white blossoms. A near-perfect silence reigned, a rarity in this house. Usually, the television blared in his parents' bedroom, the dishes clattered in the kitchen, or the computer keyboard in his sister's room stayed up late. But today, no one was there. The entire family had gone to a friend's mountain cabin for their May vacation. Adam could be sure no one would interrupt his thoughts. Still, he felt uneasy. The steady chime of the clock irritated him, reminding him that this was another sleepless night slipping away into the past. He counted twelve. Midnight. He'd lost his chance to get any sleep again.

Suddenly, the silence was broken. A puzzling shuffle could be heard, followed by a soft creak coming from the direction of the clock.

"Adam..." came an unpleasant, piercing whisper.

"Hello... I knew you'd come..." The boy sat up in bed, trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes.

"It took a while... 1,081,860 steps isn't easy, even for me. It's time. Let's go," the night guest decided.

Adam obediently stood up and headed for the black staircase...