The clock on the wall.

Perhaps my never ceasing need to know brought me to this point. But who out there can lose a child through abduction and not want to know what happened to them. I searched for months and it brought me to this house and this place. I found remnants of my daughter here, a ribbon she wore the day she was taken. I wanted to cry, be angry, run and tell the police what had happened, but I couldn't do that without finding out the remaining things to know.

Sitting at the desk I couldn't help but peer in the direction of the clock. Tick tock sounds mocked me as I tried to maintain composure, but alas I was finding that harder to do with each second that passed. I kept running the scene through my mind over and over again, maybe I had missed something. My concentration was broken by the loud ringing of the phone. The voice on the other end sounded garbled and strained. I supposed it was all just an act put on for my benefit.

"You told no one of the matter at hand I pressume".

I just listened and breathed into the reciever. I had no idea what to say really just listen for the next set of orders to come.

"When I am through telling you what to do next you will walk out the front door and down to the old cemetary at the bottom of the hill. Once there you will look for a grave marker, I am certain you will have no problems finding the right one. Once there you will dig and find the coffin deep in the earth. Once you have found it you will open the lid and get inside", the voice demanded.

"The hell I will. I am not playing this game with you anymore", I fumed.

If you ever want to see your little girl again you will do exactly what I have told you to do. I am timing you and you now have fifty nine minutes left as of now", the voice said and then nothing but dial tone remained on the line.

Quickly I ran to the cemetary and searched frantically for an obvious grave marker. Finally I found one with the name etched out and a clock painted in its place. I started to dig at the earth then saw from the corner of my eye a shovel leaned against a neigboring head stone. I used it to rapidly dig until I heard a wooden scraping sound I had found the coffin inside. Frantically I jerked the lid up praying not to find my childs lifeless body inside. My fears were quieted when I saw a note inside. As I read it from the glow of moonlight I quivered at the prospect of my next task. I looked out skimming the surrounding area around me. I saw no signs of life and I stepped inside the coffin and closed the lid behind me.

Moments later I heard the unmistakable sound of a lock being closed and I beat and clawed at the lid of the coffin but it would not budge. I was locked inside a grave that soon would become mine. Then the heavy sounds of dirt filling in the grave entered my head as I screamed for the digger to stop. I beat at the sides of the coffin and I noticed there was a faint light in all this darkness. I leaned in putting my face against the side and strained my eyes to see where it was coming from. It was the grave next to mine and in it was a clock stopped an hour before. Behind that I saw my daughter lying with a grotesque misshapen face of horror. I leaned back screaming and heard the tick tock of a clock somewhere in my death bed and I lost my will to try and beat the clock.