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The Eleven O'Clock Sparrow
mysteryEveryone6 contributors · 4 paragraphs deep
I couldn't stand there waiting. I started walking the square, looking from different angles. Maybe it landed somewhere else. Maybe I was wrong about which spoke. My hands shook. Then I saw something glinting under a bench.
The chain was old. Tarnished. But warm, like it'd been worn. I turned it over. An inscription: "To my brother. For Tuesday." I'd never seen this before. I would've remembered. Behind me, the fountain began to glow.
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The fountain's glow turned white. Blinding. I covered my eyes. When I looked again, the sparrow was hovering above the third spoke. Just hanging there. Not moving. "Tick," it said. The sparrow actually spoke. "Tock," it said again. Like a metronome. Counting down.
DH
Dov Hale
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