The ticking of the old grandfather clock echoed through the wood-paneled hallway. It was a grotesque sound, like breaking a tiny bone with every tick. One bones, two bones, three bones ... One every second.
The noise echoed down the hall, bounced off the marble wall of the kitchen beyond, and was tossed back and forth.
The person working on an old gas stove didn't seem to notice the cracking of the bones.
It was an older woman with gray hair tied in a bun. Her black dress, that of a housekeeper, was older, but in perfect condition. The white ruffles glowed in the light of the morning sun that made its way through the curtained windows.
The woman took a slightly rusted can from a kitchen cupboard. The scent of fresh tea leaves wafted through the kitchen.
Some of the tea leaves were removed by the housekeeper's skilled hands and ended up in steaming water that sloshed in a kettle on the stove while the tea caddy was put back in the kitchen cupboard.
The kettle was placed on a silver tray along with a tea set, lifted by the housekeeper, and carried down the hall from the kitchen.
At that moment the old grandfather clock from the living room struck twelve.
The blows echoed through the whole house, driving the mice deeper into their holes and giving the housekeeper goose bumps.
She had been dreading this watch for years. Their beating reminded them of death bells.
She had paused to check the clock.
But now she continued on her way, not knowing what to expect in the living room.

His hand was outstretched, cramped in agony, as if to clasp the throat of someone invisible.
His face was contorted with fear of death, a grimace of panic, only half visible in a puddle of blood, it glowed red on the dark wooden floor.
The room was neat and inconspicuous, only its dead body, twisted in a lake of blood, testified to the horrific deed.
The moment the housekeeper entered the room and became aware of his corpse, a loud, piercing scream escaped her.
At the same time the old grandfather clock began to strike, once, twice, again and again, repeating itself forever. It sounded like death knobs, but at the same time there was a kind of malicious joy in the striking of the clock.
It easily drowned out the housekeeper's scream, penetrated every crack in the house and out into the street, and was lost in the infinite blue of the midday sky.