At the very end of the town lies a clocktower.
Clocktower
It stands mighty and strong.
What appears to have been a bold red paint along its walls has now formed into a saddened gray.
Yet the clock itself held a gorgeous, yet overbearing, framework.
The tower stood high above the rest of the town, it could have reached up to the heavens itself, as if it cast judgment upon the rest of the town.
A black blob stood in front of its small set of steps, but as I drew further to it I began to see the feathers that garnished it. A raven stared at me. I stared back at it.