She pulls the pocket watch from her long black skirt and flicks open the cover with bony fingers The gold chain sparkles in the dark room
The sun isn't up yet I complain What is it this time She snaps the watch shut Four minutes and fifty seconds she says
I don't ask again Great Aunt Raven's odd jobs are always a secret I nibble a mushy apple on the walk in to Windy Hollow Moisture clings to my sweater as we pass the murky lake A thin layer of ice rests on the surface Black waves lap the shore This town still gives me the creeps I think
