The clock, half buried as it was, drew Marlon forward. He had never seen its like. His steps hesitant, weak, at first, he leaned heavily on his cane.

Stronger with each step, he approached, aware now of the hands of the clock running backward. Back unbent for the first time in decades, he dropped the cane, stepping through what he now recognized as a doorway, beyond which lay only light.

Image by WILLGARD from Pixabay