Another rainy, boring morning. A clock chimes. The sky is covered in a ceiling of murky grey that is blocking out most of the sunlight. The trees around the place are barren of leaves, as organic balls of life and death poise overhead to clonk people out. The constant wind is the only real sound because there are no birds or crickets outside. The roads are wet from last night's rain and you can see no traffic. You are house sitting in an old, lonely two story Victorian home. There is supposed to be a cat and a dog to take care of. These lovable nitwits are supposed to be stalking and hounding you, but they are not around anymore. You woke up to find them gone. Doors and windows? They're shut and locked. No signs or clues to where they have gone to. Your sleek cell phone is off and will not turn on. The faded house phone has no dial tone. Turning on the smart TV just gets a no service message on the screen. The modem and router don't seem connected to the service provider. Nothing you try gets any of these devices to work. Mystery and boredom. There are old clocks in every room. These devices are all set to different times. Heat and lights still work, along with running water. Plenty of food and drinks on hand. Downstairs has a working radio. These stations come in alright and with a variety of sounds to listen to. There are two shelves of old books in an upstairs room. The book's titles range from cheap romance to pulp science fiction. It's noon, you think. Still no sounds outside other than the wind. The stove works and you have made a meal out of the contents from a can. Listening to the radio you notice none of the stations have advertisements or announcers. No talk radio either. Many of these songs are strange to you. These musical distractions start off fine, but the lyrics are weird. Hard to explain but its harmony doesn't seem to be there. The books bother you more so and it is not because the genres themselves don't interest you. It's because the stories start out normal, but the words on the pages start making less sense. Also the letters themselves further into the pages become harder to make out. They are either blurry, smudged or missing out right. The end of the books just have blank pages. When you come back to a book that you've put down, the cover title and picture has changed slightly. You're out. All the wall clocks have stopped now. You are not getting paid enough to watch an empty weird house in the middle of nowhere. In fact, you can't recall who is paying you. The sky is partly cloudy as the sun is sinking into the horizon. You leave the house and get into your vehicle. Expecting it not to start up, but it does. You pull out of the driveway as the trees drop little presents on top of your roof. The wind picks up even more as you watch the house in your rear view mirror. It fades into the distance. Ahead is harvested fields of corn, but you don't see any other houses. For long minutes you drive in silence. The radio doesn't pick anything up. Not even static. The clouds cover the sky as night is here. There are no road signs nor other roads to take. Minutes turn into an hour before you see something other than the outlines of the fields. There is a light in the distance. You don't think it's too far away as you get closer to it. Rain starts to fall heavily but you are almost there. It seems to be a two story house. By the style it looks Victorian with trees surrounding it. You pull into the driveway as walnuts drop onto your vehicle's roof. Getting out of your car, you hurry to the house's door. Knocking on it proves no answer in return. Tired and sleepy, you open the door. Greeting you is a clumsy dog and skittish cat. A clock chimes inside.