I am the abandoned clock on the dusty mantlepiece, buried in silence. I am the keeper of untold stories, each tick telling a secret to the walls, unseen by mortal eyes. I witnessed her childhood, the hurried whispers of adulthood, and the stillness of old age.
You think me idle, yet I bear witness to the untold tales of your family. My gears grind not with mere time, but with the essence of life itself. Remember to wind me again, lest my stories be lost to the void.
Hold me, the chair creaks, burdened by the sitters who share their hopes and regrets. My wooden frame aches, yet it is their stories that shape my form, their legacies imprinted in the wear of my arms.
From this spot, I too witness the passage of time, unseen and unnoticed, part of every moment yet forever inanimate. The clock ticks on, and I remain, a silent partner in the cycle of life.
Explore Another Anomaly