The Timekeeper's Chronicle

6:15 PM

"First note: There are no such things as ghosts. Right? But... what if there are?"

Jason adjusted his wristwatch as he scribbled into his frayed notebook, his handwriting slanted and rushed. The pen trembled slightly in his hand. The dimly lit classroom was empty now, save for him and the ticking clock on the wall. His heart pounded in rhythm with the second hand.

5:30 PM

It had all started in the library. Jason loved libraries, mostly because nobody cared if he was weird there. He was bent over an old book titled Spirits and Shadows: An Exploration, flipping pages with an enthusiasm he wouldn't show in class. That's when he found it—an entry describing the "Kitcher House Phenomenon," a local urban legend about a ghost haunting their small, jobless town.

"Kitcher House was once a funeral parlor," the text read. "Visitors have reported hearing whispers at exactly 6:16 PM, as if the spirits are recounting their final moments."

Jason didn't believe it at first. Still, he tore out a piece of paper and wrote:

"If ghosts are real, Kitcher House is where to find proof. But why 6:16 PM?"

4:45 PM

Jason left school early, stuffing his notebook into his backpack. As he walked through the desolate streets of the town, the boarded-up shops and broken streetlights reflected how much he hated living here. But today, for the first time in months, he felt alive.

"Kitcher House," he muttered. "Let's see if this is all just nonsense."

3:15 PM

Earlier that day, Jason had sat through another boring algebra lecture. His teacher droned on about quadratic equations while Jason discreetly took notes on ghost sightings from a website he found.

"Most ghost encounters happen during liminal times—moments of transition, like dusk or dawn. I need to be at Kitcher House before 6:16 PM. It's when the shift happens."

He paused and glanced at the empty seat next to him. He didn't have friends to share this with—not that anyone in this town would understand.

2:00 PM

Jason was in the cafeteria, picking at a slice of pizza while listening to rumors. He overheard snippets from the seniors about "weird stuff" at Kitcher House.

"Someone said they saw a shadow move across the window," one girl whispered.

"Yeah, and then their car battery died right outside," her friend added.

Jason grabbed a napkin and jotted down their conversation. He underlined one phrase: shadow move.

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Back to the Present: 6:16 PM

Jason's watch buzzed as the second hand struck the mark. The air inside Kitcher House felt heavy, the kind of silence that seemed to press against your eardrums.

He held his breath.

"Second note: Something is here. I can feel it."

A whisper broke the silence, faint but unmistakable. Jason froze.

"Who's there?" he asked, his voice trembling.

The whisper grew louder, fragmented words swirling around him. His notebook slipped from his hands as the air turned icy. He spun around, trying to find the source, but the room was empty.

Then, in the faint glow of his flashlight, Jason saw it: a shadow flickering against the wall, moving unnaturally, as if it had a life of its own.

"Final note," Jason murmured, fumbling for his pen. "They're real."

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