Copyright Lois Terrans Bradbury

November 7 2011

Standing in the middle of the square, the uneven cobble stones nudging at her feet she knew there was something wrong but what?

As the tide of anxiety gathered strength with in her, the icy breeze of winter’s touch licked at her bare legs and her gaze flicked rapidly from building to building, always looking, absorbing everything she saw.

It was not yet noon; the spring sun not yet able to rise above the buildings so its welcome warmth could wash over strangers as they passed.

Turning to take in the whole square once more;  she noticed the people. People using the square as a short cut from one destination to another, others taking the time for a morning coffee at one of the cafés that lined its boundary.

As a pigeon flew overhead it was then she understood what was wrong.

Her eyes had not deceived her………nor had her ears, she could see and hear all. Yet the silence screamed louder than any noise. Turning her head to look upon the offending piece of architecture truth became reality and reality became truth.

An unreasonable surge of panic threatened to consume her. The clock in the tower which had ambled continuously on its clicking, clunking, chiming journey for over two hundred years was silent. Was there some cosmic significance? Was some catastrophe about to devour them all?

No one else seemed to notice the silence in the square. Not only was the clock silent, it was unmoving……. Its journey had ceased.

Checking the time on her wrist watch, two minutes to noon; the clock in the tower said six minutes past ten.

For those two minutes she stood waiting, watching …Not the clock but the people. Would they notice the lack of midday chiming? Would anyone care? She waited.

Midday arrived without fanfare, no chiming and it would seem nothing changed; yet she kept watch on those around her, willing someone else to notice.

A man sitting outside a café checked his own watch then looked at the clock and frowned, checked his watch again and continued with his coffee.

A women hurrying across the square checked her watch and gave the clock in the tower a quick sideways glance as she picked up her pace.

A man in a business suit exiting the bank looked straight up at the clock, then at his own watch, shaking his head disapprovingly as if by not working the clock had somehow given him an extra burden to carry.

A young boy came to stand at her side looking up at the clock. “It didn’t bong. It always bongs.” The young boy sighed. “You think it’s broken?”

“Maybe.”

“Too bad.”

Both stood, looking up at the clock and for their own reasons willing it back into life.