One day a train stopped in a place that was not marked on the map. Emily Park was fleeing a life that had just begun to feel like a poorly rehearsed play. There was a conductor and he was a pale man with eyes that looked like the ocean, but seemed like he was a creepy man. He had said nothing as Emily stepped off into the fog. In the town she was in it was called monopolist, where the buildings were learned inwards as they were whispering secrets to each other. The air felt thin while it also smelled faintly of mildew and something older, like a forgotten dream in the sky. Emily wonders why the streets would be so empty at night and was drawn by the sound of the tall clocktower that loomed at the town’s center.

After an hour of being there, it seemed at random, each toll vibrating through her bones like she felt a memory that she couldn’t place in her head. She asked nobody there for directions but there were also no people to ask since there was no one in the streets. Yet, she felt as if she was being watched by someone. She went to a house, and the proprietor handed her the key without saying a word. When she got in the room she felt as if the wallpaper was peeling away, in curling strips, and felt oozy. She decided to fall asleep, dreamed of a corridor that twisted, and the doors that opened into rooms that looked the exact same, with a mirror that showed not Emily's reflection but a stranger that was standing there, blinking slowly. 

The next morning, she woke up in curiosity and decided to look around the room, which led her to discover a journal inside of one of the drawers. It had many entries of a person’s name on it starting with the letter “A”. Yet the handwriting seemed as it was her own. When she began to read them, the entries spoke of a town that was devoured of time, seeming like the time was moving fast, and people who had forgotten they were humans, not only that but there was a clock that counted not the time but identities. After reading, Emily tries to leave but when she goes outside the train stop is gone. There was a mirror outside the house that had cracked and freckled with age. Starring into it she saw herself but older, more thinner, hair color different, and eyes hollowed. The reflection raised its hand and pointed behind her. 

The clocktower.

Inside, the tower the staircase spiraled downwards, impossibly long. It seemed like veins, with the bottom filled with clocks, that were ticking out a different rhythm. In the center was a man that had no shape but it seemed like it was Emily's face. It smiled. Emily felt a knot in her through and took a deep breath. The man that she saw tilted his head, the borrowed face stretching wide. Around the room clocks started ticking with rhythms, some fast, some slow, and some ticking backward. Emily then stepped back, drawn not by courage but by the strange wonders, as if her legs and feet remembered something her mind didn’t.

She looked up, the figure spoke, but neither did his mouth. The words came out of the walls and the clocks around the room.

“You have came back, Again”

Emily began to shake uncontrollably. “What do you mean again?”

The figure then moved It’s hand and pointed to a clock that was on the floor. Its face is blurry, only names. There were dozens of them, in a pattern. Its eyes scanned the list until they landed on the name Emily Park. Just above her name were faint but visible letters that said A. Park. and just below were the initials of E.P- and the letters were growing more further down.

“This place doesn’t forget,”the voice said. “But you do. Everytime”.

Around the rooms the clocks began to tick again, but this time the sound wasn’t shallow. I could hear the voices, laughs, whispers, and crying. Emily clutched her ears feeling scared that the sounds she was hearing were coming from inside of her. The lights began to flicker around the room, clocks began to tick and shake, Emily frightened and ran out of the room. When she left she looked for the stairs but they were gone, disappeared. Trying to find another way out she found a window, broken, she decided to go through the window and escape. In its place was a corridor-just like the one in her dream. Then she saw many doors outside and was twisting it endlessly. The doors on the other side were almost identical, as the door inside, each humming faintly. 

Emily decided to open the first door, which led her to a room. Her own room. Having the same wallpaper and decor. Yet the bed was unmade, and the blankets were on the floor. 

Emily stepped into the room, trying to catch her breath as if the air seemed heavier than it was. The scent of mildew lingered, but is now mixed with a different scent, like old rust or old blood. She stood quietly, thinking to herself, her eyes scanning the familiar yet wrong space. She saw on the desk sat a mirror, small and round, its surface logged. She wiped it with her sleeve, expecting it to be clear but instead the room showed her room but empty, and no Emily.

Heart pounding, but everything was still there. The mirror showed her face, but it was flickering, like a candle in the wind. The reflection blinked out of sync with her own. Scared, she backed away from the mirror. She started hearing a low hum rise through the walls. The walls started vibrating, it sounded as if a hundred voices were whispering at the same time, like telling secrets. Emily looked around to find anything, she opened the drawer to her desk, found another journal, but this one seemed older, the pages were yellow and ripped. Decided to flip through the pages hoping it would explain what was happening. When turning the pages she recognized some of them through the clock but others seemed unfamiliar. Looking she saw that some of the pages had her initials or even her full name or even “Her.”

The final entry was dated years ago. 

It said “ She returns when the clock forgets, But the clock never forgets. Only Emily does, the doors open for her, but she never seems to remember which door it leads out to.”

Her hands trembling, she rushed to leave the room she had entered through, but it was gone. Yet, there was another door, identical to the rest. Emily opened it, and it led to another room again, her room, but this time everything seemed fine. Her bed was made, but the mirror was shattered on the floor. She screamed.

Then began to hear the soft ticking noises from afar. She turned around and saw a small clock on her desk. Emily was frightened she sat on her bed staring at the clock, her mind unravelling. Whispered to herself

“I’ve been here before, but the room didn’t answer, the clocks did.”

They ticked, and somewhere within the deep the corridor, a door creaked open. She went inside feeling relived everything seemed perfect nothing was messed up. Her life felt normal now.