It was a Fright

Let’s get rid of that old antique thing, my daughter said. Was she talking about the clock? Was she loose in her head? I pretended I had not heard her weird kind of blasphemy. That clock was given to me by my oldest Grandma McGee. Sure, it was ancient, it no longer played a pretty song Some of it had splintered, its chimes were abrasive and long But there was a connection between that timepiece and me. Maybe because it had come from my favorite Grandma McGee. That night I sat up in bed, wondering if a ghost was about the house. That clock was playing like it was haunted by moose and mouse. My hair frizzled with fright, for I had not had this experience before. I broke off three teeth grinding them; I locked my bedroom door. Could not get to sleep the rest of the night; this was a fright, it was a fright. Next day, I tried to give the clock away at the first sign of daylight. Who would want it? Asked my daughter, it's scary as a gargoyle on speed. I can deliver it to your house, however, if you have a desire or need.