Huge rusted timepieces had appeared overnight. Some blamed aliens, others God.
‘Where did they come from dad?’ Sam said.
‘I don’t know. But don’t touch them.’ Jeremy sat and let Sam play.
Jeremy tried to speak but could only cry as the timepiece Sam touched shimmered and hummed.
Sam grew tired — a tiredness of unfamiliar bones — she forgot where she was, her eyes became weak.
Somewhere a baby cried. It lay abandoned on the bench swathed in adult clothes. Sam held it with wrinkled hands. It seemed hungry. Perhaps it would like some chocolate, she thought.
In response to: Friday Fictioneers, 17 March 2017
Image: Jennifer Pendergast
Many thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers.