Anthony

There's a smallish clock-tower next to where I live. It's pasty white, landing straight in the middle of a field that has the pitiable excuse of a park to keep it there. I go on walks there every once in a while to avoid the stress of my daily life, not that I have much of an excuse of one. Of course, I go there at night to avoid the people, and the curious looks they give me. Maybe if I had a dog, or something, I would have more of an "excuse" to go on a walk by myself. But I already have enough on my plate with Giovanni, and my apartment doesn't allow dogs anyways. It allows cats, strangely enough, however. I have a hunch it's because the land-lady is a lover of them. Her name's Loraine, and she's fond of orange juice, which is the first thing you find out about her, as she lugs a can of it with her everywhere. She's a nice land-lady to have, loose but strict at the same time on the rules. She does have a judgemental side, however, that makes me avoid her.

But about the clock tower.
It rings every night at exactly midnight. To be exact, it rings every three hours before midnight, where it stops for the night. It used to ring all through the night too, until the neighborhood complained of losing sleep, for which I am grateful. The other night, Campanella was on my desk (as I could tell from the mewling and the things moving from his irritated swinging tail) demanding to be let out. I'm pretty sure the thing can walk through walls, but he still demands me to let him out by opening the door. Who knows why. Maybe because he wants to annoy me. Well, he's succeeded. Anyways, I was doing my best to ignore him when midnight struck, and the clock-tower started ringing from far away, and he lit up, like a Christmas tree; the cat I mean. I was able to really see him for the first time after he had died; all white and shining like the reflection of light off of tinsel. It took me aback. After midnight had passed, however, he was the same-old invisible though. The same thing has happened the past 3 nights since, and I've reasoned that the reason I've never noticed him do that before was because he always made me let him outside beforehand. I've been wondering if the clock tower has anything to do with this, or if it's just the time. I'm pretty sure the time Campanella died was not midnight on the clock. Maybe this is just one of those things that happen without an explanation. Who knows. But I think I'll go check out the clock-tower later this week.

I've also been having nightmares since then.