Bonnnng... Bonnnng... Bonnnng...it was nearing midnight on the last day of October, and the timeworn grandfather clock in the great hallway was tolling the looming hour. The old mansion in which it stood had been alive for five hundred years -- its foundation built solid, its stones weathering well and never giving way to the earth. It remained a landmark to all who saw such a masterpiece of building that, like the memories created within, it could never be destroyed.

The great hall itself was nearly fifty feet in length, and out of the shadows of the corridor appeared on either side the faintly glinting handles of so many doors. At one time, room after room had been filled by countless families of the same gene. Now its sole occupant was an elderly eccentric -- the last of the family to reside there. The others had found it less important to remain in the place of their birth. Gradually they had moved out to new homes in new cities, but this old man had determined that the present lineage would live out its maximum extent here. When the time came for his part of history to end, then somehow no other would ever own the house again.

Bonnnng.., nine, Bonnnng.., ten, Bonnnng.., eleven. It's getting late he thought to himself. I should be on my way to bed. He arose from his chair in front of the fireplace. It was his favorite spot to pass the time, and this chair with its hand-carved arms and high, plush back covered in crimson velvet had been cared for with the same patience needed to nurse a dove to health. Its origin during the reigns of Louis XIV and Frederick William in the mid seventeenth century made it intensely dear to him though he could never quite place why.

Bon... He started walking down the hallway toward his bedroom feeling lighter on his feet than he remembered in years. He felt as a young boy again. It had been many years since his body had been cooperative like this. With an imaginary partner in his arms he danced up onto his toes and spun her around as the music played...

Then he stopped frowning to himself. What an old fool he was. The magical firelight had put him into a trance. There was no music. There was no beautiful woman. He stood for a moment gripping the disappointment as he glanced around the silent hallway. Something felt wrong though -- another emotion he could not quite place. His faithful clock stood as always, its weights pulled by gravity keeping the pendulum swinging--

Instantly he understood! His clock was -- frozen! The pendulum had stopped almost unnaturally, its angle not quite straight down to the earth. How could this be. It had been going since he was born. They had grown up together. It had always kept the time like an old friend never missing a day. How could he go on without his clock? He had to do something.

"I must sit down," he said aloud. "I must think of some way to fix it."

He shuffled back to his chair no longer feeling so good. His mind was reeling with distress as he stared blankly down at the floor. Glancing up slightly, he reached out for his chair to steady himself as he arrived, and then he saw it -- a vision so stirring that he felt his heart pound the back of his throat. There, in his chair, he sat. His head was slumped over, his chin pushed at his chest. His body had never moved from his fireplace seat!