Midnight Approaches

The old clock struck midnight and the manor was filled with the deep tones as it declared the late hour. It chimed every hour, as grandfather clocks were known to do. But at midnight, a different tune would reverberate through the house.

“Are you ready?’ The call came from the first floor and was carried up the stairs by the almost mournful tones from the antique clock.

Arabella laid upstairs, decidedly ignoring her mother calling her down. She continued to listen to the chimes, her feet dangling off the edge of her bed as she laid and stared at the ceiling. Even though it was an old clock, it could still be heard throughout the manor, as though it chimed in every room. For all she knew, maybe it did.

As the clock began its sixth chime, it began to change. By the seventh, it was almost lighter. A more gentle chime, but one that seemed to linger. As though the chimes themselves sought to replace the silence.

“Hurry up and come downstairs! It’s time!”

She sighed. It was surprising that her mother hadn’t marched up the stairs to get her yet. With the old grandfather clock chiming, she was turning 18. A big moment as she legally entered adulthood. But an even bigger moment was waiting for her downstairs. It was time to get out of bed.

Arabella tied a blue sash around her waist and looked in the mirror. Her long, black hair fell down past her waist, while shorter locks framed her face and green eyes. Up or down? Considering she needed to be downstairs before the clock finished declaring midnight, she left it down.

She did a quick spin in front of the mirror, checking to make sure she looked okay. The dark blue dress wasn’t something she would have normally worn. It nearly reached the floor and the silver specks along the hem looked like someone splashed paint in an attempt to create the beginnings of a starry sky. It looked almost childish. But her mom had said it was “tradition”.

Arabella didn’t mind tradition. What she minded was that it was an old hand-me-down and if she looked close enough, she could see the stitch lines from how often it had needed to be repaired. She could even see fraying at the end of the sleeves. Why couldn’t there have been something traditional that wasn’t so…old? There wasn’t much she could do about it though. It was only for one night. Not even a whole night. It was only for one hour.

She made her way downstairs, nearly tripping down the final steps. Her grandfather was there to steady her. He was old and his hair was greying, but he was as strong as ever. The only sign of age aside from his hair were the few wrinkles around his eyes from years of smiling, and the years of wisdom and experience within his gaze.

“Seconds, child,” he whispered. “Seconds.”

Arabella nodded and let him guide her to the main room where the rest of her family was waiting, all standing around the old grandfather clock. She approached and listened as it continued to chime. The tenth one, if her count was correct.

On either side of the clock were her parents. Beside them were her aunts, uncles, and cousins who were already eighteen or older. Waiting against the walls of the room were grandparents and great-grandparents. So many were faces she had never seen before, but she knew them to be family in one way or another. And all of them were witches.

The old grandfather clock finished chiming and silence fell. No one said a word. No one moved a muscle. The only thing Arabella could hear was the muted pounding her own heart. She had been looking forward to this moment for years, but she had no idea what to expect. No one had told her anything. Simply that “she would know”.

She stood still, waiting. There was no sound outside herself. Even the ticking from the clock was gone. But still no one moved or spoke. And then the clock hand moved.

And everything happened at once, like a wave of sound and color.

She could hear the wind outside, the singing of the crickets, and the ticking. But the clock sounded different. It seemed soft, almost muted to her ears. But each tick seemed alive in the back of her mind, counting seconds like a voice reminding her of the passing time.

Everything seemed to become brighter, clearer perhaps, as though a warm light washed over everything and chased away the shadows of age. No longer were the old wooden floorboards muted from years of wear, but a deep brown as though freshly polished. Even the wallpaper looked new. And the grandfather clock which was older than anything else in the manor stood tall with the shine of polished wood and freshly cleaned glass. The pendulum inside even seemed bright as it swung within its walls.

As for her family, they had all begun moving, all holding a tall wax candle in their hands. The oldest approached first, great-grandparents and their siblings. They each placed a candle on the floor around her and the flame flickered into life. Then they stepped back and their children stepped forward. Each person set down a candle until it was her parents’ turns. They set theirs in front of her and quietly took a step back.

Arabella was surrounded by candles. And it was her turn. She looked down and saw a single unlit candle at her feet as though it had always been there. Ahead of her was a single space in the ring of candles, waiting for hers.

She lifted the candle and approached the ring. She knelt down to set it in its place and as soon as the base of the candle touched the wooden floor, its wick sparked and lighted itself. But before she had finished placing it, she heard something. A low creak coming from somewhere else in the room. She rose slightly to glance around, but only saw the shadowed forms of her family.

When had it gotten dark? They must have turned off the other lights when they started lighting the candles. Probably another tradition. She shook her head and focused on the candle. She still needed to place it in the ring.

She set it down firmly and the moment she released it, the flames from all the candles flared. Fire rose and fanned out, creating a blazing wall around her and she stepped toward the center. She could no longer see her family. It was just her in a ring of fire. And yet, she wasn’t afraid. No, in a way, she knew what was going to happen next. Nothing more than a feeling.

So she waited. She could still hear the ticking of the old clock clear in her mind and she used it to count the seconds until a full minute had passed. And then she realized she wasn’t alone.

On the wood in front of her was a body. The unmoving body of an animal. The very dead body of the animal that was supposed to be her familiar.

She screamed.