First fic for icyydragon's fanfic challenge. Wow, I know, I'm undertaking ALOT of things now, especially since EOYs are fast approaching and all... but I really need to take my mind off certain matters... -stones for awhile-

Alright, this is my actual attempt at trying to write something that is somewhat scary, but apparently, I don't think I did quite a good job of it. Well, bear in mind that it's at 11.44pm at night when I'm typing this, I'm all alone, it's really dark, and my story has something bad that happens to girls.

Credits to DarnedNoob, for letting me use BeraCross, from his series Prologue, in this fic. Hey, I'm doing advertising for you! Now your turn! xD

Alright, read, review, and enjoy, and hug your safety blanket, teddy bear, bolster, or whatever in case you're reading this at night and get scared like me.

Don't be too occupied hiding under your blanket and forget to review though.

The new couple stood on the path, gazing at their new house. Bright colours adorned the walls, matching that of its neighbours. There was nothing better than giving an old house a fresh coat of paint to make it lively again, especially if it had such a cosy feel to it, resting in a secluded corner of the Ludibrium Village. It was a perfect place to start a new family, and it was finally theirs.

"It came at a good price," the man remarked, walking inside, past the rows of uplifting sunflowers, headed pointed towards the sun, hanging high in the sea of blue above. "They even threw in this antique grandfather clock for free too!"

The couple came to a stop in front of the grandfather clock, stationed at the foot of the staircase. Intricate designs lined its side in perfect symmetry, no doubt etched by magic, beautifully matching the tasteful mahogany out of which it had been carved from. The glass protecting its face was perfectly clean; dirt hadn't seemed to accumulate on the clock at all in the many years of neglect, like there was a force of some sort acting on it. The old grandfather clock surely was worth a fortune, but its somberness seemed very out of place in cheerful Ludibrium.

As time passed, the couple found themselves mystified over a strange issue. The villagers were friendly, no doubt, but upon discovering where they lived, people would begin to drop not-so-subtle hints, trying to persuade them to move out. The husband couldn't understand it; what was wrong?

The woman, as more time passed, however, felt that it was the clock. Whenever she was cleaning the area around it, shivers would run down her spine and the room would turn unnaturally cold. She always sensed that there was some presence in the clock, watching her as she moved throughout the house. Unease followed her everywhere while she was within its walls; doors and windows would open and shut mysteriously, and cackling laughter would sound out time and time again, scaring her out of her wits. The ticking sound of the clock hands scared her all the more; all the more seeming like the clock was... alive. Then, there was always the matter of the clock chiming at precisely 11.59am everyday, even after the estate agents had said that

She relayed everything to her husband, but he never discovered any strange occurrences in the house himself. Instead, he chose to ignore her, thinking it was merely her imagination, driving her deeper into despair as he refused to believe, eventually causing her to lose her mind. No logical reason was ever discovered for her insanity, and the poor husband knew not what to do.

But one day, he stumbled upon the horrifying story of the house's history. About a century years ago, at exactly 11.59am, a group of BeraCross members stormed into the same village, killing the then owner and sole occupant of the house. The owner was an infamous mental case, having lost her mind to Necromancy ages ago. She sought the dark powers, trying to fill the void in her heart, emptied by her lover's untimely demise. Her condition was unstable, Grendel had pronounced, but originally, he saw no need to remove her from the village. As the years passed, however, her powers grew, but her control weakened. Darkness soon infused with the monsters in the Clocktower, creating some of the most terrifying creatures of all time. The monsters soon were rampant throughout the town, shrouding the bright, exuberant city in a dark, clouding mist. The people lived in fear: they were now unable to even venture outside, frightened of the creatures that lurked everywhere, frightened of the mindless laughter that rang out loud and clear throughout both day and night, signaling the house owner's utter joy in their sufferance.

Eventually, it was decided that she had to be destroyed, and the guild unit was assigned to the task. A fierce battle ensued, and even though the villages did not witness the fight, hearing the cries and destruction taking place outside was more than enough for them. Three days after the battle commenced, she was taken down, but not before casting her final necromancer spell, transferring her spirit into the nearest object, the ancient grandfather clock, vowing her revenge.

The experts did their best, sealing the beasts into the deepest regions of the Clocktower, some never touched by a mere ray of sunlight in their lives, locked far away from civilization. As for the witch, however, besides attempting to seal the clock unsuccessfully, nothing else could be done to her.

Over the following years, many young girls in Ludibrium began to disappear, some of the bodies found with visible Necromancy scars, and some whose bodies were never recovered. Before each of their disappearances, all had complained of searing headaches and maniacal, cackling laughter ringing in their minds. The witch was exacting her vengeance on those that had better fortune than her, so it seemed. It was said that about that time, the dreaded Klock monsters first appeared inside the Clocktower, and that they were the souls of the dead girls, forbidden to rest in peace. Whoever was brave enough to venture in so deep and attain the Sealed Clock Piece, the scared charm being the only item capable of sealing up the haunted Grandfather clock, would then be able to restore a person back to his or her normal state of mind and bind the evil clock to another full fifty years of silence.

Suddenly, one day, the chaos ceased; her laughter no longer sounded in the village and the not a single girl vanished thenceforth. A rumour began to circulate around the townsfolk: some brave soul had taken up the challenge and actually managed to return, alive, from the ghostly prison that held the Klocks. The adventurer had never been found and credited, but his courage brought much needed peace to the town at last.

Alas, for that pair of newlyweds, misfortune was their suit as the wife sank deeper and deeper into depression, bringing much grief to the husband. He in turn, decided to endeavor on what had been done before in the legend, hoping to restore his beloved's sanity. As the dawn broke one morning, he gathered his supplies, setting off into the Clocktower. That was the last that people ever saw of him, for once he entered the tower entrance, he never did return. The wife, apparently, died soon after, leaving the house to fall into abandonment once again.

The grandfather clock and the necromancer brought no further harm to the village from that time on but since then, the house in the isolated corner of the town had been a taboo subject, one avoided by many of the elder generation and relatively unknown to the younger.

--

"Now," the elderly shopkeeper continued, smiling warmly as he handed over the groceries, "that's the scariest legend this town has to offer, and I doubt anyone else here will willingly retell it to you, seeing as that it's such a dark topic here. So where do you two newlyweds live? I'll drop by when I have time."

The couple that had entered the pharmacy not long before now stood huddled together, faces pale with fright.

"We… live… in that house…"

Random author rant: I've accepted it, moved on, and I hope you'll be happier with her; don't regret anything, 'cos time is irreversible and words are impossible to take back.