There’s an old grandfather clock at my grandparents that has 13 hours on it.

Everytime I asked, grandpa simply said, “It’s not time.” And distracted me with puzzles and treasure hunts.

I would race over to catch the clock in that time period, but was always routed as it read: 12.59… click… 1.00pm. The dial would just be there. No slight click over, no sliding the whole way across a complete hour, just bam! 1pm.

I began wondering if that 13th hour was in the morning. When midnight crossed to twilight.

I stayed at my grandparents every opportunity I got. Last night I crept down the stairs as 12.59pm drew closer. I waited, bated breath so grandpa, who sat across the fire in his old chair, wouldn’t hear me.

I heard the screech of that metal arm swinging, one click over into that 13th hour. What I wasn’t expecting was the knock on the door.

Grandpa grunted, and arthritically went to the door. A robed figure followed my grandpa into the lounge and sat opposite him.

Grandpa reached under the table and slid out a drawer I’d never noticed before. An old stone slab came out onto the surface with pieces much like a chess set.

“Thyme,” he said, looking up the stairs at me. I froze in horror as the other person turned to me. The inside of his hood was empty. A huge void of nothingness. “Come here, girl.”

Shaking, I descended the stairs and entered the room, never taking my eyes off the stranger. They had no hands. No feet. Just a robe that insinuated that something underneath was moving it.

Sittttt… The hiss invaded my ear and I felt myself drop into a chair.

I glanced at the table seeing pieces my grandpa used to hide for me. Knew the glyphs on the board as clues I used to decipher.

“Every year, on the first of the month, you must be here.” Grandpa said, setting up the pieces. The being’s arm rose and a piece stepped across the board.

Grandpa paused and calculated a move.

“Why?” I heard myself ask.

You’re moveeee, Parsleyyyyy

My skin began to crawl hearing the thing speak. Grandpa moved again.

“To stop him from winning. If you don’t…”

Deathhhh

I sat frozen as they continued. Piece by piece disappearing as each took them out. Until the last time the thing moved its robes. Grandpa sat back, clutching his heart. His eyes went wide and pleading.

“Thyme,” he struggled to speak. “you must finish.” Then he collapsed back. Dead.

I didn’t know what to do. Where to look. I turned to my mind. To all the times grandpa had hidden treasures, to all the puzzles. Slowly I understood. He had been grooming me to take his place without my knowing. I studied the board and the final pieces. I saw the move and took it. As the piece hit the stone slab, the being hissed.

See you next thymeeeeee…..