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The Eleven O'Clock Sparrow
mysteryEveryone6 contributors · 5 paragraphs deep
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.
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.
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