Patricia didn’t remember what Gondwana had told her. She knew she asked questions. She also knew that, while hesitant, the skull had answered. But she had nothing to show for it. Her notes from that day were scattered, vague, and nearly illegible.
One minute, they were talking. The next, she’d already put his skull back into the metal drawer. It wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened to her. She’d talked to a skull, after all.
However, it was the first time one of the skulls had divulged anything about what happened. The rest she’d smashed or removed the jaw from out of spite. Maybe it was the muted one that had encouraged Gondwana to speak. Maybe not.
Whatever the case, it wasn’t her lost memory that scared her. It was the ticking.
Endless ticking. At first, she thought it was a bomb. She’d ducked for cover. That is until she realized it wasn’t stopping. It even continued in her dreams that night.
Wind up clocks swung from strings while others dotted the floor. They were assorted sizes, though none straying too much larger or smaller than the other, and all were silver. Bright, shiny silver. All but one. Patricia walked towards it, dangling a few inches above her head. She grabbed onto it, stopping its swaying. On the back, she found an engraving.
One word, Patricia.