Guestbook clock

Sadly, all additions to our guestbook are now closed, due to abuse. Please contact the archivist if you would like to add your missive.

The House of Clocks is now seeking writers to assist us in describing our various exhibits and collections, as our previous staff writer has vanished under mysterious circumstances. (We're sure he'll turn up somewhere.) Writers interested in contributing to this work should contact our archivist.
(Proximity to the Shambles not required. Remote location preferred, as it lessens our attrition rate.)

IN ADDITION: If any kind and gracious guest has a suggestion on a piece of guestbook software which would make the guestbook less prone to being filled with commercial solicitations of an onerous nature, the atmosphere might be much improved for everyone. Please send suggestions to guestbook at thisdomain (with the hopes that that email address will not immediately be abducted for nefarious purposes and information may be able to be received.) Many thanks to all who have visited and have persevered through the storm.

What was that noise? *hides, wipes blood off robes*
I think I need a break from my recent offer to assist a viking with a gambling problem on his pillage through time and will be back shortly to sit pleasantly and ponder a sunset...perhaps with a small bottle of brandy. Be alert for barbarians with offers of furries and horned helmets. They have the tongues of snakes!
I'll explain it all in a bit. Blessings to you all. Oh, and please hide this scantily clad slave man for me until I return. I won him in a game of chance and he is causing suspicion in the Abbey. I must gather up my things and a fresh stock of herbs. I shall return.

SaintMarie of the Compounding Slaughter
Poop de Ville, Angleterre USA - Wednesday, November 09, 2005 at 18:45:10 (EST)
It seems that I am once again...delayed at home and have no current things to occupy my time. I am remorse at the rather quiet nature of the guestbook as it is one of the only ways I can reach all these wonderfully interesting people I have encountered. The other way is quite unpleasant for the rest of the world and is highly unrecommendable. At any rate, I welcome anyone who would like to come, visit and explore the manse with me. Quandry is quite lovely at this time of year and I look with fondness upon the beautiful sunsets. They alone are worth a trip.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Tuesday, November 01, 2005 at 09:55:36 (EST)
Greetings to my silent friends. Silence is an undervalued thingie, you know. It gives one so much time to contemplate, reflect, lose teeth, etc etc.

Yes, it's true, I woke one morning to find my teeth missing. I have it on certain authority that they've been used in the construction of some new and terri-fying timepiece. I would very much like them back. Any help on that front would be doubly appreciated.

Yours in Eternal Duplicity,

Gummily Not Louise Brooks
Avoiding the dentist, - Monday, October 24, 2005 at 12:44:27 (EDT)
Notice: One slightly used yet still bright and adventurous soul for sale. Price Negotiable. Leave missive here or at The Ferret's Teeth.

May the Shadows bow down.

The Ferret's Teeth, London - Wednesday, September 28, 2005 at 10:44:57 (EDT)
Bless you, my child, and I bid you large blocks of fragrant, holy cheese!
Sainte Marie of the Inviting Odour <neveruse@toendyoursentences.ever>
Cheese Shop outside the HOC, Chicago, IL USA - Monday, September 26, 2005 at 08:44:49 (EDT)
I apologize if I was overzealous in my pruning of the odious missives which have continued to plague this guestbook.
Please post your comment again and I will make sure not to erase it again.

The Webmistress
USA - Friday, September 23, 2005 at 10:00:38 (EDT)
I see my latest missive was erased.
My disappointment is inevitable.
Perhaps I should not have offered free beer.
Hoping that someone will leave word if they happen upon my soul on the road.

Saint Marie of tthe Reclining Chair
Meat Street Pub, Illinois USA - Friday, September 23, 2005 at 08:54:26 (EDT)
Kingsly Ratshagger-Raymondo <>
USA - Saturday, September 17, 2005 at 00:11:27 (EDT)
This is a test of the guestbook.
The guestbook is back online. Possibly the unfortunate desecrators of the guestbook will leave us alone for a bit. Perhaps not. We shall see.

The Webmistress
USA - Friday, September 16, 2005 at 10:47:02 (EDT)
I just thought I would ask if anyone might be interested in acquiring some of the feathers from the wings of a fallen angel? If so, leave missive here.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Saturday, July 23, 2005 at 09:00:13 (EDT)
Nice site! I remember the most amazing clock showroom in the Black Forest - really took me back!
Sidney <>
USA - Wednesday, July 13, 2005 at 17:22:39 (EDT)
I am in possession of a rare and rather animated antique silver and tortoise shell Gütlin travelling clock whose pierced silver columns have framed a menacing apparition. Whenever this clock strikes the third hour past midnight on Saturday, I am sure I witness a brooding visage hidden behind wild, amber flames. Fearful and vexxing was this vision, and it was receommended to me that I submit the clock for permanent keeping in your reputable establishment. After a lenghty and prodigious campaign to ready myself for a tour of the Americas where the infamous House of Clocks resides, I was thwarted when, unexpectedly...
a dingo ate my baby!

Alasya Avirati
Calmly resting in, fields of clover Angleterre - Friday, July 08, 2005 at 13:00:53 (EDT)
Well...As Mr. O'Reed seems to be eliminating many of my own irritants I believe I must apologize for any taunting I may have done. So sorry Hake. Perhaps I may some of the pieces you might be looking for here at Quandry. You are cordially invited to come look but you may want to scroll through this guestbook to review the rules of a stay at Quandry.

Now I must depart as I have an angel to hunt down and pluck.

May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, July 07, 2005 at 08:07:37 (EDT)
Oh is there no end to this marvelously macabre day-trip of mine? The Swiss are not quite as neutral as they would have us all believe. Their clockmakers are simply devilish when it comes to the machinations of cog and gear.

Wizards of Chronomancy, one and all, from the youngest to the eldest. Jurgenstaad Bjornfjurgenmeister, the very eldest and most revered of the Swiss Master Clockworker's Guild put up one of the bravest and effective fights I've had the pleasure of ending in the time since my recent rebirth.

All old clocks eventually wind down, don't they?

I do hope I've not trod upon the relations of any contibutor's to this very guestbook in my quest to collect and collect and collect. The idea all but apalls my finer sensibilites. It would be a shameful mess, and would more than likely draw more than a single line on the battlefield between us, would it not?

Perish the thought.

As one travels and sees what is there to be seen, the bigger picture begins to resolve itself: What is our world but one enormous House of Clocks?

Preserve Us All

Hake Cross O'Reed
Currently Traipsing a Bloody Swath - Wednesday, July 06, 2005 at 17:41:18 (EDT)
Mr. O'Reed,
If your words could wound me I would weep...but first I would have to give a bloody care what you think.

May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Wednesday, July 06, 2005 at 16:44:54 (EDT)
Should we give thanks to the wind for carrying the pollen? Give thanks to the river for housing the spawning salmon? Thank the rough-hewn stone for concealing the treasured gemstone within?

If we must.

I do thank you for being the mindless vessel that placed this timepiece back in its rightful place.

There are more dead. The Shock-Headed Widow of the Screaming Moors has been stuffed inside her own grandfather clock. Her grandfather will be so pleased.

The clock, however, feels a bit bloated.

Can I help feeling sinister?


We should meet. I feel there would be a most curious outcome to such a meeting.

Hake Cross O'Reed
- Tuesday, July 05, 2005 at 19:17:15 (EDT)
Oh Mr. O'Reed! You do mistake my words. I never meant to infer that you encite fear. And you would call me repugnant? I do not feel that you know me well enough to determine if I am such. Your presumptions irritate me but I am patient and we shall see what happens. Remember, your so called heart would not tick in your chest if it were not for me.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, July 04, 2005 at 12:06:15 (EDT)
My repugnant Raihyven, I assure you, fear is nowhere near the emotion that I normally encite. I feel so much different this time around, as if a million secrets of my purpose had been revealed.

I have recently slaughtered the entire monastery located within the Balkan Slopes that whorshiped te Primordial Clock God, P'ndulock. Their secrets are mine.

This whole world is ripe for the ticking.

Preserve Us All.

Hake Cross O'Reed
Between the seams, behind the shadows. - Sunday, July 03, 2005 at 21:50:07 (EDT)
Chin up Buck...I'm sure you will find a reason to live again. You have always been your own individual and I can tell you that being a reincarnation is not very grand. At any rate, I don't think we have much to worry about when it comes to this Hake Cross O'Reed fellow.
May the Shadows bow down.

The Loft, no where important - Sunday, July 03, 2005 at 17:58:42 (EDT)
I don't understand. I always railed against the idea that I was somehow a reincarnate or aspect of this Hake Cross O'Reed fellow... but now that I find out that I really am noit, I feel somehow empty. Disappointed. Purposeless.

I know not where to go from this point, nor what to do.

I've truly let you all down.

Buckinham Frondsworth III
A disgraceful State of disappointment. - Sunday, July 03, 2005 at 11:42:56 (EDT)
To the one whose autograph would n'ere spell out L-O-U-I-S-E B-R-O-O-K-S, It is quite true. I have become quite cross and my cowl is drooping ever lower. I am, however, only at the Abby for a brief respite, as other clergy have determined that my refuge here is much safer than my wandering about still confused with the whole aging process. After being subjected to St. Cuan's manipulations of that velocity vexing hourglass, I am often found in a fit of bewilderment as to which century I am engaging. I am tearfully missing my cellular inertia. I will leave word here when I am finished resting and have managed to retrive my left foot from the parallel dimension known as the abstract realm. Thank you also for that warning, I shall happily heed it with haste and without Hake.
Until the future becomes the present,

Saint Marie of the Idling Loiter
free of time but constrained here, in Chicago USA - Sunday, July 03, 2005 at 00:57:22 (EDT)
Normally my attention is divided in so many directions that I haven't the time or inclination to be involved in these human matters, but I want you all to know that I have never been thieved by anyone, especially by anyone bloody named Buckingham!
Thanks ~ Polly

Polly Dimensional
everywhere and nowhere, in the universe - Sunday, July 03, 2005 at 00:20:03 (EDT)
Hmmm...Mr. O'Reed,
I do believe I could solve some of your problem. Hold still long enough and I shall kindly rip out your "heart" for you. It is a solution at any rate. As for my clock. I'm it. The Executioner's Clock and I are one and the same. If I have something you need, come find me...if not, come find and perhaps we can help each other.

May the Shadows bow down.

Nowhere, at least not important anyway - Friday, July 01, 2005 at 22:49:21 (EDT)

I am a clock collector and located in The Netherlands. I have now about 100 clocks. I son created a website for me and published to pictures of a lot of my clocks. Please have a look at my site and enjoy the pictures.

Kind regards,


Holland - Thursday, June 30, 2005 at 13:37:56 (EDT)
I fear that the return of this splendid pocketwatch may prove problematic to say the least. It resides where the heart of me ought to be, ticking at the speed of blood, resonating much like the pulse of a madman.

I must begin my collecting once more. The clockworks are a a part of me this time around, and therefore I have no pursuants of consequence.

The Captain is dead, along with all my past lovers and enemies.

But you lot shall do.

I come for your clocks.

-Preserve Us All

Hake Cross O'Reed
Directly Behind You - Wednesday, June 29, 2005 at 20:41:33 (EDT)
I see that my grandfather has been looking for me and he shall be dealt with appropriately. I regret the long absence but I temporarily lost control of my temporally anomolous nature after erroniously leaving my wonderful little pocketwatch hanging upon a rather interesting clock in the H.O.C. Now, if I am to believe my eyes, that very clock has become somewhat of a person. I think I might like to meet this person and see if he absolutely needs that pocketwatch. Shadows know, it aided me well. I have to go now but I shall check back at some point in the future.

May the Shadows bow down.

In an undisclosed location, somewhere away from pain - Wednesday, June 29, 2005 at 16:09:17 (EDT)
Marie, do my eyes deceive me? Did I just now read that you've taken up Cross and Cowl once more? I was under the impression that you'd become some kind of godless libertine in recent days. Ah, well; never underestimate the appeal of a monastic lifestyle, as I always say. It's just that now I have a terrible craving for marshmallows...

And on an entirely different note, I advise you, oh my horological compatriots, to stay far far away from the mouth of one Hake Cross O'Reed. It may seem like a grand idea to start off, what with the puckered lips and surge of power, but I assure you, it will lead you down a dark path which not even Buckingham Frondsworth III, the bloody thieving polydimensional creature, would wish to follow.

As always,
Yours in Eternal Duplicity,

Fluffily Not Louise Brooks
Seeking a stay-puft man on the road to perdition, - Saturday, June 25, 2005 at 14:59:09 (EDT)
I awoke to a world of chains and pain. Since I had not paid for this service, to my knowledge, I knew that it was not Madame Vanadu, dominatrix extraordinaire at her usual work.

She's been dead for fifteen years, besides.

No, I was in fact within the demesne of the House of Clocks once more. How I had gotten there, I could only guess. The cold iron chains around my feet were indubitably a nice touch, surely the Captain's. But being neither of the sidhe nor unseelie fey, and certainly not being of the demonic persuasion... to me cold iron is merely cold and uncomfortable... and heavy.

No my dear Captain, inform your precious Tenille that I am a breed entirely unto my own. Eel-like and well versed in the arts of escapism, both physical and mental.

I do not know why I am freed once more, but your petty and superstitious preventative measures worked about as well as they would have on a werewolf or a chinese water spirit.

I am once more free from the House and all its enforced foibles. Once more I tick and talk. I walk amongst you,

Preserve Us All.

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Friday, June 24, 2005 at 02:27:09 (EDT)
I am back at the Abbey for a brief repose and some meditation. Since, according to scholars of old, letter writing is the only device for combining solitude and good company, I decided to leave a brief message here for those privy. Yesterday was a day that seemed to go on forever. I did find myself again in The House Of Clocks. This visit was not for the expected horological cause, but rather in response to a call for capable clergy to quell a nasty poltergeist appearing in the downstairs hallway adjacent to the alley, apparently intensified by the recent full moon. I'm afraid my schedule prevents me from any elaborate relation of recent events, but I must confess that the smell of wet animal hair and burning marshmallows was almost more than I could bear. With fractious spirits carefully curtailed, I spent idle time leafing through the notorious notations chronicled in this beguiling guestbook. Simply for clarity, I would like to verify that I am of no relation to any of the Tiglers(or any other patron of the HOC), and had n'ere before set eyes on the pages of this cryptic register previous to my appointment by Sister Constance Lacuna to seek advice before our seemingly endless shopping trip to Brussels last autumn. I do hope that you are all observing the ceremonious sun-inspired celebrations of summer.

Longer letters following lager,
Sainte Marie of the Reclining Armchair.

Saint Marie of the Innacurate Assertion
Shabby Abbey Parlour, IL USA - Wednesday, June 22, 2005 at 14:28:57 (EDT)
I am returned.

More details to follow.

Hake Cross O'Reed
A State of Mild Disrepair - Monday, June 20, 2005 at 23:43:01 (EDT)
I have taken the liberty of sending to you by post, since to write it in the Guestbook would be somewhat injudicious, a small spell containing incantation and list of ingredients (all cheap and simple to obtain in a metropolis like Chicago).Once cast, it should infect all spammers with boils and suchlike phenomena. The spell is completely free of charge in gratitude for providing such an edifying website. I should warn you however, that the spell though effective may not stop the spamming. The Nigerians, of course, have counter charms, and the deviants who write of sexual matters will simply assume that they have contracted yet another STD and carry on regardless.
Again, though not much of an horologist myself, I have read this Guestbook and list of exhibits with much interest and plan to visit your museum the next time I cross the pond.

J.W. Wells of Wells and Co. Family Sorcerers
London, Britian - Friday, June 17, 2005 at 02:11:52 (EDT)
please keep offoooooooooooooo i doy reach here
guyman <>
lome, togo USA - Thursday, June 16, 2005 at 07:33:32 (EDT)
To the proprieter, House of Clocks, The Shambles, Chicago, The United States of America:

I have recently come into the possession of a remarkable timepeice. It appears to be a grandfather clock, three or more meters high, composed almost entirely of lead. I have opened it to examine the workings and can confirm that gears, cogs, pendulum, face, hands, and even the springs are carefully wrought from the most delicate lead.

I purchased this clock at great expense from a gentleman, formerly of Romania. Though I was initially loathe to part with it, I find myself becoming increasingly fearful of it, and dread the day that the key is turned and the pendulum sent a-swinging. As a precaution I have removed the pendulum and stuffed the inside with fleece, but my irrational fear is daily growing.

Would you be willing to accept this clock as a donation? I feel that it will be in better hands at the House of Clocks, preferably in the Weisshaupt Room, than if it remains in my care.

Kindest personal regards,

Messr. Einar Galansen
London, UK - Friday, June 10, 2005 at 16:53:28 (EDT)
Hello Herr Hans,

..."moet ik dus zo nu en dan –met pijn in m’n
hart- een klok van de hand doen."

Ah, poëzie! Uw website was zo mooi en dwingend, dank u. Mei goodly Lord zegent ons die vrede en de correcte tijd houden!

Saint Marie Wie Geen Nederlands Spreekt
where for art thine mind, Illinois USA - Thursday, June 09, 2005 at 18:37:30 (EDT)
Mr. Malkovich,
Could you possibly discover the color of the bird you noticed? My dearest grandchild is missing and may have been trapped in...a flighty situation.

To the Irritatingly NOT Louise Brooks:
What under the heavens did you ever do with my pince-nez? I would appreciate it back as it is a necessity.

If there is anyone who may help me find my dearest Raihyven, it would be worth your while. I'm sure there is something I can provide you with if you can help me.


Luc Morningstar
Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Wednesday, June 08, 2005 at 19:38:57 (EDT)
To Ybyss (and other interested parties),

Acting upon the words of she who suspisciously reminds me of one Louise Brooks, I gathered my effects and set off for Britain. There I encountered quite a bothersome Agent of the Crown under the guise of a customs handler, who held a more-than-passing curiosity as to why a traveling meteorite collector such as myself (a clever disguise, dear allies, nothing more!) would carry such an estensive array of pocketwatches. Seeing a narrow escape to ellude the man for a moment, I took a risk and uncerimoniously transported him a few hours backward in the chronometria. I was able to slip out of the building through a disused laundry chute, but if you are ever in London, beware the man Jenkinson; he means to undo your livelyhood.

I found The Big Ben Clock by and by, and did indeed witness a bizzare spectacle. A solitary bird idled about the top of the tower, encircling it once a minite to the very tenth of a second. After hours of observation from a nearby pub, I could discern no immediate effect of its behaviour, although I could sence there was more to the scene than the naked eye could behold.

Tomorrow I shall seek an aquaintance of mine, a student of the late alchemist Gregory Hood, for advice, as she is a specialist on the omenous flight of birds. If anyone else is local, perhaps we could arrange a meeting.

Past and Presently,

Mikhail Malkovich
London, England - Tuesday, June 07, 2005 at 10:10:56 (EDT)
Although I may have glimpsed a representative from the International Brotherhood of Meatworkers scurrying from the scene on the banks of the River Thames Friday evening, I suspect there's more to Big Ben's 90-minute delay than the brutality that comes with the Brotherhood's lot.

A bird in the cogs seems as reasonable a supposition as any, does it not?

Yours in Eternal Duplicity,

Currently Not Louse Brooks
Keeping on top of things, in London, England - Sunday, May 29, 2005 at 07:08:53 (EDT)
To the mostest esteeming of personages here:
We have become oh so worriedness for the dear lost mistress. We are hungry and the clock of the killing bird is restless. It ticks and bongs at us and is making her grandfather mostest in the angry set of the mind. He stands here telling me I am to ask the kind and esteeming personages if anyone has seen his raven. I and my loyal sumerian brothers are lost without our Mistress. Please be helping me saving ourselves from Mistress's grandfather.

Thank you for help me.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Night and Fog - Sunday, May 29, 2005 at 00:31:58 (EDT)
I have heard it said that a bird in the hand is worth two in the Isle of Quandry!

Saint Marie of the Declining Ardour
at the end of the road in, chicago USA - Friday, May 27, 2005 at 11:28:44 (EDT)
Hmm. I recall, when I was still with my itinerant kapelye, crossing paths with a band of Rom musicians who carried about an empty birdcage. We had difficulty communicating, but I did understand many of their ballads to be laments for a lost raven. It causes me to wonder...

At any rate,
Yours in Eternal Duplicity,

Farshluginally Not Louise Brooks
On a dusty tsimbl string, - Monday, May 09, 2005 at 17:39:52 (EDT)
To the mostest esteeming of personages here:

My Mistress is still missing. We last was seeing her in Romania. Please be helping us find her. We are hungry and her grandfather is not letting us eat. So hungry. She is a very lovely Mistress. No phantom, no stealer is my Mistress. The end of time rides her wings.

Thank you for help me.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, May 09, 2005 at 16:32:41 (EDT)
To Ybyss,

I take from your words to mean one of either: a woman of the night, a dastardly thief such as myself, or (more literally) some frightening beast of darkness. Of women and thieves, I am most capable of locating, but a fantastic devil such as you might describe would prove to be slightly more difficult to find. Not impossible, mind you, but I would be put out a tad.
By fortious auspice, I happen to own a timekeeping relic of Victorian Georgia, used by the late inspector Gregory Hood to locate hauntings, spectre, and the occasional houdou. As the watch is suspended by a chain, it slowly spins while it's mirrored surface illuminates any phantoms present.
Where you to point me toward a suspected locale, I could uncover your Mistress.

Please alert me if I should come armed, or if I should elicit the assistance of the other esteemed personages who frequent this comunique.

With haste,

Mikhail Malkovich
Places and spaces, - Wednesday, May 04, 2005 at 08:56:28 (EDT)

That's a lovely collection you have, and I thank you for shewing it to us. However, I would suggest constant vigilance around the, er, Schitterende vuurvergulde antieke Franse pendule. I recognize the slippery sylph adorning the clock, and you ought to be warned, she is not actually cast in gold. Be certain to cover your beverages and lock your larder, in case she reverts to her former practices. If you begin to degenerate into a feverish, fatigued wreck, shipping it to the House of Clocks in Chicago -would- be in your best interests.

Yours in Eternal Duplicity,

Indubitably Not Louise Brooks
Between a feather and a ticklish place, - Tuesday, May 03, 2005 at 00:17:56 (EDT)
To the mostest esteeming of personages here:
My poor lost Mistress is a lovely creature of Shadow. Is this good to helping me be finding her?

Thank you for help me.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Sunday, May 01, 2005 at 18:25:28 (EDT)

I am a clock collector and located in The Netherlands. I have now about 100 clocks. I son created a website for me and published to pictures of a lot of my clocks. Please have a look at my site and enjoy the pictures.

Kind regards,

hans <>
Holland - Saturday, April 30, 2005 at 14:30:45 (EDT)
To Ybyss,
Having recently been evicted from my lodgings and denied gainful employment by my oncetime colleges (the phrase "honor amongst theves" proving to be a concoction), I would most certainly have the vim, time, and ability to assist you. A description of your associated guardian, perchance?

We can discuss the matter of compensation at a later time.

At your service,

Mikhail Malkovich
Out and about, - Friday, April 29, 2005 at 11:04:27 (EDT)
To the mostest esteeming of personages here:
I am seeking my Mistress. If you can be finding her and sending her home it would be niceness. Her grandfather is waiting and we are most scared of him. He is mean and says we can not be eating what we are needing. Please help me be finding my Mistress.

Thank you for help me.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, April 28, 2005 at 14:44:14 (EDT)
Is THAT what I smell? Now it all makes sense! Thank you for your concern. To you who unconquerably could never be Louise Brooks, I must say the smoke had me worried for a bit but I see you had your work cut out for you. Dare I call foul? What treacherous means brought you to such an end? I stopped by the House of Clocks for a repair, but also in hopes of adventure. I must admit that my thyme still runs thin, but I wanted to leave word that I've been lurking in the alley behind The Shambles waiting to meet with a strange individual. He has sent me several messages inquiring of the Brotherhood of Meatworkers in exchange for information regarding St. Fursey's timepiece. I normally would not follow up on such an ambiguous request, but this person seems to hold some clues to a most treasured mystery. I will let you know more as the weave unravels. I wish I knew more, but this informant has left me clutching at claws, er I mean, straws. If I can lend you a hand in disposing of that mess, please let me know by dropping a line here. On a wing and a prayer(although you must know I've given up my faith), your partner in crime, er, I mean, time...
St. Marie

Saint Marie of the Inviting Odour
In a wayward field, of daisies USA - Friday, April 22, 2005 at 01:03:12 (EDT)
Well it is good to finally be here (its getting harder to make a connection via tree squirels). Anyways the 89th window did in fact carry the piece you were looking for. Its always messy buisness down (up?) there,but in the end I did succeed and will be bringing the piece presently.
Mr. Drake <Drake@89thwindow.versit>
Chicago , IL USA - Monday, April 18, 2005 at 14:19:08 (EDT)

I'm afraid what you smell on the wind are the charred corpses of two hundred and twenty-seven bird women. I'm afraid things got a bit out of hand...or dare I say claw? Hopefully the smoke will not adversely affect your lung condition.

Yours in Eternal Duplicity,

Scorchingly Not Louise Brooks
Fleeing from the treetop, - Friday, April 15, 2005 at 18:41:36 (EDT)
A toast? Buckingham, nice to see you old chap and although we hardly know each other, I'd like to request mine with jam if I may. Chuck has no arms? Perhaps we should regale him with fond yet insulting quips in order to make his stay more humerus? A bit of a "Chuck"..."roast"? Forgive my silence as well, I have been suffering a terrible lung affliction and ran out of thyme. I do long for more adventures, and smell something on the wind...
Saint Marie of the Inclining Driveway
near Chicago, of confusion USA - Wednesday, April 13, 2005 at 01:54:28 (EDT)
Dearest N.L.B.,
Why are grafting a beak onto anything? Curiouser and curiouser...

Dear Buck,
So nice to see you're well. By the way, did you want that whirligig wristwatch back? I still carry it with me. Leave missive here if you would like it back.

May the Shadows bow down.

No one's business, Somewhere - Monday, April 11, 2005 at 18:24:24 (EDT)
Buckingham! You ubiquitous bastard! It's been too long! How is, *your* Windy Riley faring these days?

For the record, of course you're not Chuck. Such an assumption never crossed my mind. Chuck has not stolen any of my belongings. How could he, afterall? He hasn't any arms.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've a botched beak graft to deal with. It's really beginning to hurt.

Yours in Duplicity,

Hawkishly Not Louise Brooks
Treetop Surgery Room, - Sunday, April 03, 2005 at 23:14:32 (EDT)
I must make it very clear to everyone here that this armless Chuck fellow is not in fact, me.

For a while there I was closely associated (by all of you... not personally) to some bothersome individual named Hake who used to frequent this site.

I wanted to make it abundantly clear that my recent silence on this particular message board has only been due to the fact that I have had some dealings in the bizarred occult world of Toaster Ovens... of which there is much less activity, but of a much larger potency.

So anyway, Chuck does not = Buck for those of you reading and posting here.

Buckingham Frondsworth III
In the Periphery, off to the left, near the Toaster Ovens. - Sunday, April 03, 2005 at 16:03:54 (EDT)
Feeling anxious?
Tired of life?
Keep it up.

The Undertakers, in conjunction with The International Brotherhood of Meatworkers
A slippery curve in the road, - Sunday, April 03, 2005 at 03:07:36 (EDT)
To the honestly Not Louise Brooks

Hmmm...bit of a problem there. If she is the same, er, thing then you may be able to distract her by talking elephants. Even hummingbirds are a safer topic than corvines...Try flying insects as another discussion topic. Those things just might work. I would rather it not remember birds.
May the Shadows bow down.

Enigma's Keep, Romania - Saturday, March 26, 2005 at 14:57:27 (EST)

I'm afraid all we've been discussing for her last few visits is the characteristics of corvines. It's the only subject which distracts her from the topic of my damnation.

What should I do now?

Yours in Duplicity,

Avistically Not Louise Brooks
Treetop, - Friday, March 25, 2005 at 17:33:27 (EST)
To the Wicked Not Louise Brooks,
I do believe that the little girl may be more my problem than yours. I think I know her. Enjoy her company but do not answer any questions she might ask about birds. It would be appreciated. Until she is gone, I fear I shall not be visiting you.

May the Shadows bow down.

Enigma's Keep, Romania - Wednesday, March 23, 2005 at 18:31:04 (EST)
My Dear Mr. de Vyre,

Best of luck in the matter of finding your mirror-self; mind you retreive the correct one.

I recommend keeping the elephant-gun to fend off the curators after they discover what you have done to their exhibit with the other two objects.

Gamaliel R. Devon II
Chicago, IL USA - Tuesday, March 22, 2005 at 21:43:27 (EST)
My dear horologists,

In my travels, I have come to own several chronographs and timepieces of a most peculiar nature, or at the very least, of singularly baffling and sometimes morbid origins. I would be most happy to donate these timepieces and detail their histories, as they have proven a considerable nuisance in my journeys. My rail car is not allowed on the L's tracks, but I shall endeaver to find a trustworthy courier for these devices as soon as possible.

And, a word to Miss Fellgreave regarding her domestic troubles: The solution, madame, is to throw a monkey wrench into the plans of this malevolent clock. While this is typically meant in the metaphoric sense, I believe the simplest resolution will be to open up an interior wall of your home and insert the iron plumbing implement directly into the offending chronometer's gears.

L. Mog Kavanagh
A well furnished and constantly mobile rail car, USA - Friday, March 18, 2005 at 21:27:27 (EST)
Yes, yes, yes, i bloody well know the Brotherhoods are a secret, we wouldn't want to go into long explanations about the camel and the swarm of carnivorous grapefruits and the like, but HONESTLY, how private should it BE? We're supposed to be taking over the wor-...i, we are definitely not trying to take over the world...ahem, no, there isn't even a we, just me,Chuck. Um, i have to go now.

And no, my arms have not grown back. I'm not even typing right now.

There is no Brotherhood. This is only a dream... *waves arms*


Chuck "Manslayer of Moths With Crumpled Newspapers" _______hood of the _____ could be a leg or some such.
Beneath Tables, USA - Sunday, March 13, 2005 at 21:37:17 (EST)
Ah, Ravey dear, I must thank you for choosing Japan as a dropping off point. There must be some quality I possess which endears me to those of a monastic mindset, for I was taken in by a cadre of itinerant Buddhist monks. They destroyed the carriage clock, but as it called off the transubstantiating realtors, I didn't really mind. It irked me at first, but they've assured me repeatedly of the unimportance of material possessions. Granted a pallid young woman with large, pensive eyes visits me once a fortnight, clutches her rosary, strokes my cheek and calls for my damnation, but that is besides the point.

I am interested in this CHUCK fellow. Perhaps I can activate my skills of humunculation and be of some assistance to you, sir, but only under a certain circumstance. I have heard the name of this Brotherhood of the Empty Hand (perhaps some connexion to the Meatworkers?); I would like to speak to you about them, in PRIVATE, mind. These Brotherhoods do not take well to being discussed openly on such forums. I rather suspect it's them placing the offers of gratuituous webcam incest, if only to detract from our most noble mission.

Well, if you still possess your arms, I will be looking forward to a hasty response.

Yours in Duplicity,

Monastically Not Louise Brooks
Makeshift temple with broadband access, Japan - Sunday, March 13, 2005 at 16:07:38 (EST)
While I find most mail amusing for one reason or another I must admit that the MULTIPLE invitations from the H.O.C. to become a "semi-permanent exhibit" are no longer funny. I went there once to do something nice and I knew I was being paranoid for a good reason. Not long after departing from that oh-so alluring establishment (I kept fighting the urge to give my wonderful little pocketwatch to this chained up clockwork man) I began to get these irritating cards in the ALL my houses! I don't recall signing anything while I was there. Is there a way to get the nice, yet persistent, people at the House of Clocks to cease sending me these letters?

May the Shadows bow down.

Enigma's Keep, Romania - Tuesday, March 08, 2005 at 20:46:28 (EST)
My cry of help goes out to you, oh experts of the ebb and flow of time in all its many forms and faces. I am Mistress Fiona, of the House on the Moorlands. Within the walls of my manse there is the constant slow ticking of some great, behemoth time-piece, all giant cogs and clacking springs. The sound is constant... and maddening. Piotr went quite mad two weeks ago, and has locked himself in the study. I hear the sound of smashing glass from time to time, but nothing more.

I fear that this clock has some malefic purpose; some grand design for which it was crafted into my home. It has always been here, of that I am quite certain... but never so loud and raucous. It celebrates the nearing of some event I suspect. I cannot seem to leave the house any more, and I need assistance.

Please to any of you who frequent this site... please... help me with the horological horror.

Mistress Fiona Fellgreave
A Misty Moore from Long Before - Thursday, March 03, 2005 at 18:01:56 (EST)

While rescuing the ever-entertaining NOT Louise Brooks was quite an adventure I think I shall stay away from that one for a bit. May happiness find you where I left you in Japan N.L.B. Being stabbed by my own knives is not particularly my favorite hobby. I'd go home but I'm afraid I might just end up stuck there again and that would be boring. I noticed that there have been a couple of new folk posting missive here. Let me know if there is anything I can prices are reasonable and my references are impeccable. Just out of curiousity, whatever happened to Buck? Oh well, I'm sure we'll hear from him again.

May the Shadows bow down.

In pain, Lots of pain... - Saturday, February 26, 2005 at 23:32:25 (EST)
Further to my letter of late October 2004,

Your accursed clock has stolen my reflection. Needless to say, this makes shaving excessively difficult.

I am returning to the Shambles to reclaim the image that is rightfully mine, and am willing to use force if the clock cannot be persuaded to give it up. Should this be the case, I am well equipped for use of force, with the antique but still serviceable elephant gun that has been handed down from my great-great-grandfather, the ancient book of accursed magick known as the Liber Animus Damnatorum, and a stout wrench.

~Dante de Vyre

Dante de Vyre
Arkham, MA USA - Saturday, February 26, 2005 at 10:21:20 (EST)
I appear to be a mite lost. I am carrying a rather large shipment of "Henchmen Masks #3" and this box is ever so heavy, i do not believe my arms are up to the task of checking maps (seeing how one is swollen and red and the other 3 are pulsing something dreadful).

There is also the matter of being trapped inside of this clock.

Anyway, directions would be wonderful. I appear to be in clock whose label reads "etiB yaM kcolC ,hcaorppA toN oD". I would appreaciate haste, seeing as how there are a great deal of teeth in here with me.

Impatiently Yours, (Waving)
Me, who the bloody hell else could it be?

Chuck "He Who Hides In The Cavities Of Dragons"
Brotherhood Of The Empty Hand HQ, Between Chicago and Cthulu's Nightstand, USA - Sunday, February 20, 2005 at 16:05:31 (EST)
The Chilean Brotherhood of Oriental Studies
P.F. Vicuña 201
Nogales. 5° Región

Muy Señores míos:

I am hoping that you might be able to direct me to one
Sr Roberto Jimenez. I believe that he is known both to you and

I am seeking his expertise in horology and eastern desert travel to aid me in my search for Magister Philippos. Magister Philippos, which you may not be aware of, was the last known bearer of that most holy timepiece, the Sanctus Periculum. The Sancus Periculum was the greatest creation of His Holiness Pope Alexander III, the clock-making Pope.

It of the greatest importance that I recover this timepiece as it may reveal to me certain paticulars of my ancestry.

Le saluda atentamente,

Algernon Featherstonehaugh

5C Turnip St.
Sigfrid County

Algernon Featherstonehaugh
Ocibar, Frisland - Thursday, February 17, 2005 at 16:35:59 (EST)
I wanted to leave a note that I am returning from my (lair) new home overseas to the House of Clocks for a brief tour to gather some clues to further the continuing search for St. Fursey's elusive Flying Clock. I am feeling refreshed from my rest in the new abode. I received a disturbing letter from a retired Abbess in Cologne regarding a randsom note involving a carraige clock she had custom made for a friend many years ago that has been missing for some time.
I told her I knew nothing of the timepiece, but I did inquire of her knowledge of the legendary flying clock and was met with great excitement. It was, to my dismay, a confusion on her part as she thought I was discussing flying buttresses and the entire effort was in vain. She is quite senile. I hope you are all in conjoined halves and not falling apart at any seams. I hope to catch up to you all soon and let the adventure continue...
Sacre Bleu is my favourite colour!
Saint Marie

Saint Marie of No Particular Order
state of confusion, USA - Friday, January 21, 2005 at 19:27:19 (EST)
I am certain that, although robust and often, it only takes place in the shower or when I am traveling the astral plane.
sherwin <>
Fidgad, Florid USA - Saturday, January 08, 2005 at 02:08:16 (EST)
Darling N.L.B.
I am coming...just do not attempt to steal anything from my person as it all comes back and I would hate to have it return unexpectly (otherwise known as ill-timing). If you have not already passed it, I suggest you take a left through the rather imposing, gothic door which will promptly close behind you. Stay there and refrain from touching the grandfather clock at the end of the room. It will attempt to eat you and it's dashing fast. I come swiftly so fear not the realtors.
May the Shadows bow down.

Between the Shadows, and coming ever closer - Thursday, January 06, 2005 at 23:07:13 (EST)
Shit. Well, things are not going *quite* according to plan, I'm afraid. Aloysius escorted me to the gentleman you mentioned, Ravey dear. He really was quite handsome AND angelic, although he seemed rather attached to the bear. I attempted to deliver your message, but he ignored me utterly and began tearing apart his bedchamber. I suspect he is, in fact, a dipsomaniac! Quite scandalous. I wonder if he knows the Captain? At any rate, I took the opportunity to steal his pince-nez. They were just so tempting, perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. Would you have done any better? I think not! Do not JUDGE me!

After my theft I ran for it. The building was rather labyrinthine in nature, however, and I unexpectedly came upon a matronly woman in a study filled with religious artifacts. She pounced on me in a manner so furious, it was not to be believed! I clocked her over the head with the pince-nez, and she fell into a swoon at my feet.

I could not resist one last theft before leaving; a carriage clock, decorated with an art nouveau pastiche of the Virgin Mary, which was displayed prominently on the woman's mantle. I have since discovered that, on the hour, it spouts pretentious French phrases, i.e. "bondieuserie! bondieuserie!". Very puzzling. At any rate, I now regret the theft as I am being pursued by a fleet of overzealous realtors.

Some assistance at this point would not be remiss.

Yours in Duplicity,

Meteorically Not Louise Brooks
A Brief Shadowy Pause, - Saturday, January 01, 2005 at 19:06:45 (EST)
It is a brief note that I must write to you all. In regards to my singing...I am certain that, although robust and often, it only takes place in the shower or when I am traveling the astral plane. Perhaps this gives you some clarification or perhaps not. In any case, I am in the midst of a dream as we speak and must return before the tall, dark, handsome young man turns into a 4-foot tall, violet and green wig that won't stop reminding me about the dirty linens.(I hope this astral plague spares you all, it is tremendously frustrating). Peace be with you.
Saint Marie of the Revolving Door
a most confusing dream, astral plane USA - Saturday, January 01, 2005 at 04:50:29 (EST)
Journal Entry 81~

As I rest in my flat above the textile mill, I took a few moments to inspect further my entrusted timepiece while I soak my aching soles. It appears to be a rather handsome pocketwatch, but made of an indescribable metal. Perhaps I shall seek the aid of one practiced in the "alchemistry" to devine its make.

Mik Malkovich

Mickhail Malkovich
The offices North of Main, - Wednesday, December 29, 2004 at 22:22:43 (EST)
Oh. I do believe I know where you are now dearest NOT Louise Brooks. I shall come to retrieve you shortly. If you tell Aloysius to show you to the Master's chamber he will not only get off of you but should take you to a much more comfortable room. If a rather handsome, angelic man is there when you arrive would you please let my grandfather know I am coming? Thank you and good luck with Aloysius.
May the Shadows bow down

At home but packing for a looooong journey, - Wednesday, December 29, 2004 at 17:14:01 (EST)
Dearest Raihyven,

I suspect I am, in fact, still somewhere in your domain. There is a cluster of Sumerians standing about ten feet away from me; they keep pointing and giggling and chanting "free adult webcam chat! Teens jerking off!". I am not certain what they mean by these things. They're making no move to free me, however, so at this point it really doesn't matter WHAT they're blathering on about...

On the positive side of things, Aloysius has very soft fur for an overlarge foul-mouthed bear. The things he says...they do not beaaaaaaaar (oh my, oh my) repeating!

Besides Aloysius and the Sumerians, there aren't many definitive features. Though every so often, I think I hear an angelic voice uplifted in song...and on the hour, the tolling of a great bell...

You don't keep any overzealous celestial beings in the Quandry, do you? Or perhaps it's just Saint Marie?

In Eternal Duplicity,

Patiently Not Louise Brooks
'Neath the Arse of Aloysius, - Monday, December 27, 2004 at 23:05:36 (EST)
I now write these word to appeal to anyone knowlegable of the local underworld. While on a delivery of particularly valuable timepiece, I was accosted in an alley by two ruffians. Somehow they had learned of my purpose and sought the clock for one "Boss Hershal". Being that I was in a sour temperment from the ordeal of obtaining it (his rib bent the tip of my new blade, and bloodstaining my new trousers in the process), I was in no mood to simply hand over the prize. Managing to duck past them, I was chased into a foundry, where I was able to elude the men by hiding in the sewer entry (so much for my suitcoat).

If anyone could provide me some informative words describing the man Hershal, you would earn the appriation of a handyman of sorts.

Always polite in rude company,
Mik Malkovich

Mikhail Malkovich
The offices north of Main, - Monday, December 27, 2004 at 15:15:54 (EST)
To the Brilliantly NOT Louise Brooks:
Interesting...At first I thought you might have been in one of my homes but frankly I fear I have no clue as to where you are. So sorry. Perhaps I should make an adventure of discovering your whereabouts? Was there some place you always dreamt of when you were a child? Perhaps you ended up there? I shall come search for you. I do it odd that I DID watch you sinking into some feathers...or maybe it was someone else dressed like you. It was hard to tell as it was rather bright in there.

At any rate I just thought I would post warm holiday wishes to everyone, as it has been passed along to me.

Enjoy your holidays.

May the Shadows bow down.

Quandry Manor, Italy - Saturday, December 25, 2004 at 14:15:02 (EST)
E.B. Lytton, my good man or woman, that made no sense.

I would contribute to the renewal of our quest, possessing as I do a very erudite, stifled snicker, mind, but I am afraid I'm at a bit of an impasse. I made it past the pit of oily feathers, only to find myself set upon by an overlarge stuffed bear calling himself Aloysius. He is, at present, sitting on me. As soon as I discover a solution to my predicament, I assure I will take up our torch with renewed vigor.


Grandiloquently Not Louise Brooks
Beneath a Bear of Foul Temperament, - Friday, December 24, 2004 at 20:08:26 (EST)

My views on the damnable quiet are, of course, known. One can only suppose that commentators are part of the class of _omnes res_, which _tempus_ and its material ambassadors, _viz._, your hideous timepieces, is busy devouring.

I still struggle to retain a solictor of both competence and erudition. The few possessing both of those qualities seem to have difficulty with punctuality. Rest assured, you have not heard the last of E.B. Lytton.

Yrs. Very Truly,
E.B. Lytton

E.B. Lytton
London, England - Monday, December 20, 2004 at 01:27:54 (EST)
I see quiet has taken all us again. While a little peace is nice I do so yearn for a good adventure. It was confirmed by an associate that the clock, while interesting, was indeed NOT St. Fursy's. Perhaps we should search anew? Leave missive here if the idea is striking. Does anyone know if Buck landed safely?
May the Shadows bow down.

Quandry Manor, Italy - Thursday, December 16, 2004 at 21:21:15 (EST)
Dearest Raihyven,

I do think it was both noble and wise for you to donate the timepiece to the House of Clocks. Having returned from my real estate venture overseas, I see that I must stand corrected for a semantic error that may have been fatal, but thankfully is minute. Proper cognitive adjustments have been made.

Buck, I would have been glad to arrange for you a more comfortable and reliable landing spot and refuge at the Abbey had I been aware of your visit sooner. I do hope you are in one piece.

To she who in no way could possibly be construed as Louise Brooks, that sounds like a sticky predicament you find yourself. Now you can truly be considered a fine feathered friend.

Although I am uncertain of his exact location, I have received word that the Captain is biding his time at Bury St. Edmunds writing, no doubt some memoir of his exploits or something similar. Wherever he is now, I am assured there is at least plenty of air and an agreeable absence of shrimp. Only time will tell I imagine.

With that I leave you all. I have some unfinished business acquiring the deed to a lair I have selected and must start sewing apparel to suit my new alter ego. I will leave you with a small traditional Welsh saying I was reminded of while on my trip to Europe:
"All the world is queer save thee and me, and even thou art a little queer"

'Til the future becomes now,

Saint Marie

Saint Marie of the Declining Ardour
where the streets have no name, IL USA - Tuesday, November 23, 2004 at 22:57:35 (EST)
I find myself overjoyed at my now painless existence. The gentleman at the House of Clocks' reception desk seemed a bit nervous when I handed him the clock but he assured me that it would find a happy home there.

As for you, Oh-so-descriptively NOT Louise Brooks...WHERE would you like me to move you? I seriously doubt you want to drown in feathers. Leave me notice on this guestbook of the exact location you would like to be placed (Coordinates work best). I tried to offer a helping hand but it seemed you were enjoying the theatrics of sinking in I finished my business.

I saw your tattered balloon while I was leaving Chicago. I do so hope that you landed alright...or at least in one piece.

I wonder if the Captain has had any luck finding his way out?

May the Shadows bow down

Venice, Italy - Sunday, November 21, 2004 at 22:28:49 (EST)
I spoke to Sir Gaiman regarding the attempt on his life, and all he did was scream in my face and grin rather lopsidedly. I grow worried. The paradigms, THE PARADIGMS...

My mental energies are expended at present. My body is still in the land of the oily black feathers and equally unctuous shadows, to which my mind has just returned. I'm afraid I sent it flitting to and fro over the weekend. I must thank Buck for the tip on homonculae he gave some time back; it's come quite in handy as of late.

I would fortify myself, if I were you, my friends. There are dark times ahead of us. For now, I must rest my mind, and allow myself to sink more deeply into this pit of feathers...

Exhaustedly Not Louise Brooks
It's really very filthy here, - Sunday, November 14, 2004 at 22:54:32 (EST)
Ah yes, the shoddy workmanship of this balloon has finally eminded itself upon me. I am nearing Chicago of all places...

If anyone here reads the Blog over at, you will see that the International Brotherhood of Meatworkers has made an attempt on the life of one Neil Gaiman (who may or may not also be the Great Creator mentioned at various other points on this blog). A Screaming Alarm clock made by the Brotherhood was given to Mr. Gaiman as a birthday present.

Could this have anything to do with St. Fursy?

Desperatel seeking information and a soft place to land in Chicago. With help on either please contact me here.

In A Swiftly Descending Balloon - Saturday, November 13, 2004 at 17:20:48 (EST)
So I have arrived at the well known House of Clocks...I have decided to irk my client and donate this agonizing timepiece to the House. I never planned on being here...ever. Oddly, I do not believe this is the flying clock which spawned our adventure. However, I can say congratulations to St. Marie on her capital ventures. And please do not call me a mercenary...I generally kill beings for a living...this was a special, very old client. I place a stress on WAS. Anyway, a minor correction for you dear Marie...I am an assassin.

I am generally assuming that once I leave this clock in the capable hands of the horologists here at the H.O.C. I will feel much better and can begin finding a way to help get the REAL flying clock.

Good luck to all!
May the Shadows bow down

Chicago, IL USA - Friday, November 12, 2004 at 22:57:11 (EST)
My dearest companions,

I am quelling my ardor at the moment with a much spoiled bottle of wine I nabbed from the anomalous-ridden cavern under the abbey gardens. The Viscount has been released, and I learned several new curse words while listening to him relay his feelings about his recent experience. He does have a vivid imagination!
As I did not foresee that your wayward spirits would compel you all to disregard our common goal so quickly, I have had to conjure a wealth of forgiveness from my heavily-burdened bosom. I must say it was a lofty task.
The entirety of the wine I procured from the cavern (excepting this one
bottle) was purchased by a suffering California wine seller whose indiscriminate tastes and experience with young, bitter vintage allowed me to unload the stash for a hefty sum. The one bottle allowed me to do so with an eased conscience. I was going to use the newly acquired wealth to fund the rest of our expedition. I see now that my efforts were wasted, as was I, but now am found and see that your autonomy outweighs this alliance.
I forgive your willfulness, as I feel those winds tugging a bit myself, and I am off to France to inquire about a rather grand bit of real estate. If any of you care to send word, please do so here at the House of Clocks and I will look forward to any offers to adventure further. I think I am still gearing up to continue the search for the illusive flying clock, but for now I am going to secure my newfound freedom and mercenary outlook by procuring what I will like to consider a "secret headquarters."
Buck, I would like to thank you for your honest commentary in response to the foot-focused verse. I hate to trod upon one's feelings, so I simply forgave the author quietly. I do hope that acquiring the balloon does not inflate your ego. Remember that the material is transient and fleeting, and considering the Captain's rather obscure condition during our pre-flight maintenance check, I think you may find the efficiency of your transport waning at a quick pace.
Raihyven, I hope you find a buyer for your vexing timepiece, and as soon as I am settled I will notify you as I could use a good Sumerian groundskeeper.
I'm sure the Captain has forgiven your antics at the Abbey. It is to be expected of a mercenary after all. I hope this finds you all well and until further notice,

Saint Marie
"God is Alive, Magic is Afoot"

Saint Marie of the Disintegrating Order
arriving soon in, France - Wednesday, November 10, 2004 at 14:51:48 (EST)
To the NOT Louise Brooks,
I recommend that you actually look up if you would like a helping hand out of I shall gladly help you up so you are no longer in danger of oily black feathers. Sadly, I have no idea from where those came. I never noticed them before. Maybe I molted? Memories of my other form are a little squewed. At any rate, I will wait at the left of this pit (as this is the only you can actually see anything from) should you like to get out.

And Kanshi Ng
Please...No more dreadful poetry...we have already had enough of that from Kricket. I promise there are more interesting things to do with one's time then make bad poetry.
May the Shadows bow down.

Feathers and Bones, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Tuesday, November 09, 2004 at 19:41:53 (EST)
Eeeeew. Poetry about feet.

Unpleasant old chap.


In a Balloon Built For Several... but Now Belonging to ONE - Monday, November 08, 2004 at 21:30:21 (EST)
Times soft pace strips down the clock gears of our life
We all knew the troubles of this strife.
I am but a foolish man
but still in action is my plan.

Do you hear the many feet? Then I am coming to you all!

Kanshi Ng
- Monday, November 08, 2004 at 21:13:15 (EST)
Oh dear, I just remembered: I left the Viscount, bound and gagged, in my disused hearth back at the Manor House. Nobody knows he is there. If it's no great inconvenience, and if there is anyone left in Bury St. Edmunds to read this, someone may want to release him. No sense in wasting a perfectly good horology expert. Really, please do, because the only thing that shall alert passerby to his presence otherwise, will be the eventual smell.

Raihyven, why is everything here covered in oily black feathers? The Sumerians are trying to sell them as souveniers in the gift shop, but really, when you can't take a step in any direction without slipping on a pile of them...

Buck, you should give me a lift. I be next weekend. And I won't miss it for all the fiddles in the world.

With Utter Duplicity,

Flightily Not Louise Brooks
Atop a Mountain of Feathers, - Saturday, November 06, 2004 at 19:21:11 (EST)
And so it was over before it ever began.
The fellowship of the Flying Clock is disbanded like toilet paper in the rain.

Captain, I still seek a way to free you, albeit, from miles and miles away from your actual location, in your newly borrowed hot-air balloon.

But I shall find the key to your egress. Eat some shrimp and sit tight.

A Deep and Brooding Depression High Above the Earth - Saturday, November 06, 2004 at 09:21:57 (EST)
To the Ever-descriptive not Louise Brooks,
Hmmm...If you open the door and see any Sumerians I apologize for the fright and do hope you enjoy your stay on Quandry. If there are no Sumerians, then I most likely sent you to my other home and can only say...Please excuse the mess. I tried to keep from sending you anywhere but it seems that you're a bit odd...not that it is a bad thing. Either way, have fun.
May the Shadows bow down.

Still, Somewhere painful - Thursday, November 04, 2004 at 14:32:53 (EST)
Raihyven, dearest heart! I truly was -about- to remark upon your theft when something very very peculiar happened. The skies above me grew dark as night. Granted, it was 6 am, so it wasn't terribly dramatic, but it was rather odd to see dawn approaching, only to be cast out, replaced by utter darkness.

For days I found myself wandering in a void. A void! Voices called out to me. They weren't terribly coherent, but they sounded vaguley irritated, and I caught several references to season three of the old television programme "Dark Shadows".

At last the interminable darkness came to an end. I now seem to be in a room. With internet access. I have yet to leave this room. I am nervous what awaits me on the other side of this highly polished, gleaming oak door. Well, I imagine I'll figure it out, one way or the other.


Errantly Not Louise Brooks
The Room at the End of the Void, apparently, - Thursday, November 04, 2004 at 04:59:55 (EST)
Interesting to see that no one reacted to the fact that I stole this rather grating clock from someone and attempted to trap the Captain, who watched me kill the fellow I stole it from, down in the cavernous below. This timepiece is a work of agony and apparently clashes against my own chrono-anomalous nature. My price just went up. If my client does not agree, is anyone else interested in this device? Please leave your messages here.
May the Shadows bow down.

Somewhere painful, - Sunday, October 31, 2004 at 16:34:38 (EST)
I will confess to being completely entralled by a recent visit to the House of Clocks, most notably by the intricate mechanisms of the Zodiac Clock and the Harbinger's Clock.

However, I feel I must point out that there appears to be a significant error or omission in your otherwise superb guidebook. While you describe the existance of only three basement levels, at one point in the tour, I found myself in a fourth sub-basement. Curiously, the area seemed mostly empty and extremely ill-lit compared to the rest of the building. Fortunately, the only three exhibits to be found were alone worth the price of admission.

The first was a vast room of shelves on which rested hourglasses of every size and shape, all allowing their sand to trickle through infinitesimally slowly. The constant whispering of falling sand was most calming, and I felt compelled to stay in that chamber for what must have been several hours before a fellow guest absent-mindedly walked into my motionless form while viewing the room. Try as I might, I could not persuade her to accompany me on the rest of the tour, and she prefered to remain and listen to the sand's whisper. You might want to check if she's still there.

The other exhibit was more wonderous still - a vast and incomprehensible construction of black iron that completely filled the room it was housed within, such that I was obliged to duck beneath gears and clamber across parts of the mechanism to reach the clock face - which I eventually found to be housed at the bottom of a deep shaft beneath the clock, and lit from behind by a flickering crimson glow as if of a vast furnace. I saw it was close to striking the hour, and that the monstrous bell above me would undoubtedly be loud enough to shatter my eardrums, so I fled with utmost haste. I find it difficult to imagine how such a wonderous device could possibly have been constructed, and furthermore how you managed to get it inside the room it was within. I am certain many of the pieces were much larger than the doorway.

The final exhibit seemed quite mundane by these standards, though it was still marvelous. A chamber-clock of polished ebony, with hands that circled smoothly and soundlessly, with no visible pendulum or weights. I was watching as it struck the hour, but was disappointed that it appears to be silent, whereas so many of your clocks have a most melodious chime. Oddly, before it chimed I recall it having a circular mirror taking the place of the clock's face, before which the fine silver hands turned slowly, barely disrupting my reflection in the glass - and yet afterwards, I was certain it was but a circle of dull metal, for no reflection could be seen.

Dante de Vyre
UK - Friday, October 29, 2004 at 17:21:37 (EDT)
Forgive my silence. I think I'm alright now. I was in the midst of investigating a strange ticking in the border shrubbery near the back of the gardens, when I seemed to have fallen into the same subterranean abyss as the captain. I still carry this rather bulky rosary and a small censor in my purse, so while lost in this cavern, I did manage to finish grinding and mixing a potent concoction to quell Henrietta's rather prodigious aroma and affliction. Let me assure everyone that I carry no prejudice against any manner of the living, as is part of my oath and nature to be compassionate to all creatures. There is always strength in numbers, so welcome!
My dear captain, if you will please cease the infernal bellowing for a moment and look behind you, I think you shall see a dim light coming from several holes in the back of that crawlspace there. I suspect that wall will give way with much ease. I would offer to come aid you in digging, but I have discovered an unusually well-stocked wine cellar of sorts in here.
I tasted what appeared to be the oldest vintage, but I swear it tastes as bitter as a wine bottled yesterday! No wonder it has been abandoned! There seems to be a passageway leading towards the Manor House according to my compass. I will wait for you, Captain. If you would like to accompany me I think this underground maze worth exploring, as well as this wine!

Saint Marie of the Declining Order
under the Abbey somewhere near the gardens, - Friday, October 29, 2004 at 02:05:20 (EDT)
I hate to interpupt lofty persuits but does any one know the location of a good tobacconist within the Shambles. I am running perilously low on a good burley and I fear I get a bit mosterous with out my smoke.
Dr. Hob Peachbrook <>
Chicago, IL USA - Wednesday, October 27, 2004 at 23:11:40 (EDT)

I must admit, that is rather dreadful. If you'll just hold out for another day or so, however, time will test Buck's hypothesis. The clock-work lady simply deteriorated,, like the caged birdies, are a living creature. By this time tomorrow you should be a toddler! I poked about a bit earlier today, and indeed heard your song. There seems to be a small gap in the ground at the base of the nearby Abbey ruins. If my intuition is correct, you should be able to burrow your way through said gap, -especially- if you really do revert to your puerile form! The gap is, you see, decidedly toddler-sized. I'd suggest you not drink the rest of your brandy in the meantime, and use it to drown some of the shrimp. Your ickle wiggly body won't be able to handle the blood-alcohol level you're accustomed to. Not many among us are so freely given a chance for a second youth. Be merry, Captain! Be merry indeed!

And if we're all wrong and you simply remain in your present, well, we'll figure something out. I'm happy to report I tracked down our slippery Viscount of Horology and have him doubly bound and hog-tied in my disused hearth. If anyone here will know what to do, it may or may not be him. I'll get an answer out of him one way or the other.

I think the moral in all of this is to never, ever trust a spelunker. I can only hope that the item he ran off with was not a clepsydra. Such a thing would not bode well. Where is our dear Saint Marie? I wonder if she is missing her mortar and pestle? I was beginning to think that perhaps the flying clock was in the form of an Astrolabe, but this turn of events casts a new light on my ponderings.

I have a vague notion that I ought to be investigating further the tricksy duality of ours saints. Two Irish fellows, steeped in the ancient traditions of their homeland... Christian or not, there is more to all of this, I can feel it.

With childish delight,

Sidhe is Not Louise Brooks
Bury St. Edmunds, - Wednesday, October 27, 2004 at 03:51:11 (EDT)
Oops. I did not plan on the shrimp. So sorry. Enjoy getting him out. I have a clock to deliver to a client. Ta ta!
May the Shadows bow down

In between here, and somewhere else - Wednesday, October 27, 2004 at 02:52:44 (EDT)
My remaining clockwork lady was set to tunnel a quick escape route for you, but as work progressed I noticed a strange phenomena at work. The deeper the gear-powered dear actually, dug, the rustier she became, as if she were decompsoing at an excelerated rate before my very eyes. I am of course reminded of the phenomena that afflicted the birds of Abbey Garden. I worry that there is some sort of residual chrono-field that has been left in the earth hereabouts due to the proximity of St. Fursy's (or Cuan's, whicever is more apt) clock. I fear that in this case a tunneling to the rescue shall not be possible at this time. On the other hand, if the shrimp are either communicative or simply lonely, I would suggest you try yo breach their language barrier in the hopes that thye may lead you on to some draina pipe... or failing that lead you into the care of a certain race of mole men mentioned by a late colleague on this very site.

Beyond this, I'm fresh out of dope ('dope' meaning ideas, not the opiate... though I'm fresh out of that as well).

If you are in fact irrevocably trapped in he nether quarters, I will be more than happt to take over the operation of your large and lovely hot-air balloon.

No Longer Digging A Hole (For ealth reasons) - Monday, October 25, 2004 at 18:05:27 (EDT)
I’ve been looking through images and icons of St. Fursey and I’m a little confused as to what his fabled timepiece looks like, beyond it’s disregard for gravity. The chapel image at Norwich Cathedral is of little use (although I think he looks a little like Kanshi Ng!) and neither are illuminated texts that someone who isn’t Louise Brooks acquired from Ireland and Picardy.

I thought Gator-Legs Pinke was carrying a pestle and mortar for St. Marie to grind Henrietta’s herbs, but I now have a new hypothesis.

Lets hypothesise that Fursey’s clock was a clepsydra (simple water-clock) then it might just look like an old-fashioned mortar. Also if someone found the priceless mortar-like device they might, conceivably double-cross their colleagues and escape with their booty. If this was the case, it is also conceivable that when they invited their expedition leader to a secret passage beneath the Abbey they might have locked him down there in complete darkness and with no intention of releasing him. It is also highly possible that the small phosphorescent blind shrimps that I had thought were products of an embarrassing intolerance to Absinthe & Banana cocktails are, in fact, real and are attracted to my warm and apparently tasty skin.

If this message finds its way to any of my colleagues via the House of Clocks Guestbook, could they please bring shovels and shrimping nets to the Abbey gardens and dig wherever they hear the muffled sound of a man of indeterminable age, singing a delightfully bawdy version of ‘Rule Britannia’. There is a constant supply of water here, but I only have one small hip flask of brandy left, and I’m not sure how long I can survive.

Capt. S.S.Hendley
The Old Country - Monday, October 25, 2004 at 13:13:08 (EDT)
Oh dear, is old Louise out on the town again? That may cause eventual confusion... especially if she's taken a fancy to time, itself.

Now, back to my ashes. There are some fascinating ashes here, you know. Bit messy, but fascinating all the same.

No, really, I'm NOT Louise Brooks
Disused Hearth, Manor House, - Sunday, October 24, 2004 at 05:38:29 (EDT)
A fake Rolex? Good Captain, your age defies your eyes, or perhaps it was the quart of Blakeney's Undefined Gin which did it. No sir! That fake rolex was nothing other than the forty-favoured wristswatch of Pang Shen! Nevertheless, Louise Brooks either di or didn't purchasse it, in any case, I am now with funds and most possible in assisting you.
Kanshi Ng
- Saturday, October 23, 2004 at 16:48:55 (EDT)
I’m grateful that the group has decided to accept my offer and have made sure to groom myself properly. I’m looking forward to once again being to put my bargining skills to use and hope that they haven’t become too rusty during my unemployment and absence.

I see that my old employer has once again raised his bald head from whatever cave he resides in and am disturbed by the Captains possible sighting of him selling fake Rolexes. He’s a hard man to mistake for anyone else and would be much happier if the man himself would venture an explanation for this seemingly out of character behaviour.

Lastly to Buck, I know you and I have had our differences and am sure that the unfortunate events at Ms Tigler’s House have left something of a sour taste in your mouth but I have no doubt that we will be able to put these behind us and work together amicably.

At your service,

Henrietta Mood
USA - Friday, October 22, 2004 at 08:31:29 (EDT)
I know I should probably be with the rest of my group but something within the Shadows caught my attention...It seems I'm not the only chronological anomaly in this place. Should I kill it Captain or just bring whatever it is back to all of you for study (or pugilistic endeavors)? I think for now I'll just bring it to you.
May the Shadows bow down.

PS. I'm glad we may gain a new ally. Welcome to our humble group of extraordinary people.

Between places lesser and greater, - Thursday, October 21, 2004 at 17:03:45 (EDT)
An old foul-smelling local told me (whilst dribbling into his pint) that there used to be two more bird cages in the Abbey gardens, but the Victorian menagerie-managers discovered that the asiatic and ornamental specimens that were kept in the last two cages did not last long.

They appeared to get younger and less able to feed themselves, until one day they apparently all escaped leaving nothing but a clutch of eggs in the corner of the cages. This same pattern of dissapearances happened over and over again until they gave up on the extra cages and dismantled them.

Currently Pinke is investigating how to dig beneath one hundred years of concrete where the old cages used to stand, whilst Buck is looking for anomalies within the existing bird cages.

On a possibly unrelated incident a man who looked a little like Mr. Ng, tried to sell us a fake Rolex today and Saint Marie is mixing some ingredients to buy us an ally.

And Buck appears to have parrot feathers hanging out of the side of his mouth...

Capt. S.S.Hendley
The Old Country - Thursday, October 21, 2004 at 16:07:50 (EDT)
Hmm...yes, the Captain has all the ingredients, but Saint Marie is our group's apothecary. I imagine she will have to prepare the tincture herself. Let us pray that Catholicism has not prejudiced her against the changelings of this realm. But oh! 'Twould be a bit silly, all things considered. A strange bedfellow, after all, is infinitley more amusing than a predictable one. I'm certain she would be more than happy to assist you.

I think we're going to need a larger hot air balloon.

With Eternal Duplicity,

Ferally Not Louise Brooks
Disused Hearth, Manor House, USA - Wednesday, October 20, 2004 at 23:16:47 (EDT)
I do have to apologise for my appearance but the moon is only just waning and I still have yet managed to rid myself of this dratted affliction, the fishy smell let me assure you is merely how I what I decided to eat over the past few days so as not to raise the suspicions of the locals. If you will have me I’m happy to lend my rather unique talents to your expedition as I’ve been led to believe that the captain may have something that can at least ease my affliction which would be payment enough.
Henrietta Mood
Around - Wednesday, October 20, 2004 at 11:42:00 (EDT)
I cannot help my current chewing habits. Not being entirely human, my teeth tend to grow into malclussion if not ground down on a regular basis. This is all I shall say on this topic.

I found nothing at the Bury St. Edmunds Art Gallery. It was dull and bloodless work, and there was no one to pugiligate my pugilism upon at all. Honestly. I am a pugilist without a cause.

I was a bit more excited to investigate the local Pistol and Rifle club, but found that the pistols and rifles were only to be directed at non-living objects such as targets and skeets. I livened things up there as much as I could before escape was necessary. Lucky there was a wheelchair ramp for easy access.

Next I visited the Table tennis league, which was much more violent, in a surprising turn of events.

Still no leads on the floating clock or its minions (or its overlords, as the case may be) but I am having one damn fine time of playing the tourist if I do say so myself.

Rave, (If I may call you Rave, and which I shall do even if I may not) I would not pick that Rose if I were you. Or anything growing on the large, fishy-smelling woman if you really want to wheedle the point. That would be exceedingly destructive, I suspect (to you, in the case of the fishy woman, and to the entire multi-verse in the case of the rose, if it represents what I suspect it might).

To the others, I hope that no danger finds you before I do, and I leave word that my next inquiry shall be into the sewer system and water-mill of these parts... if they should exist.


Off to Burt Saint Edmund... in a deeper grave this time. - Tuesday, October 19, 2004 at 19:45:42 (EDT)
I must say my favorite bit of our adventure thus far was getting out of that hot air balloon. I'm as big a fan of Byronic atmospheres as the next dark-eyed dark-lipped lady, but the mournful fiddle airs, cloying cloud of foul pipe smoke, and sounds of Buck chewing on my...I mean, his umbrella was beginning to affect me most adversely. Before venturing elsewhere, we'll really have to teach Mr. Shaftsbury-Merrimann a jig & reel or two.

The quaint English air seems to be doing me a world of good. I would have stuck with you, Captain, but I find the pubs less charming than I did in my youth. However, it's good an avenue as any to explore, St. Cuan being the bibulous meat-stealing beatified individual he undoubtedly is.

After recovering some sense of myself and bathing thoroughly, I set off straight to The Manor House, which is where I am currently. I joined one of the guided tours that's given, though there seems to be a sad lack of tourists. I dropped off from our little group midway. I blend, with surprising ease, into the 1920s costume collection. One fortuitous turn of fate after the other, I tell you! I have since built a little fort for myself within a disused hearth, hidden conveniently behind a pair of Victorian-era gowns. I have every intention of staying here until I can track down the slippery curator of horology: Viscount Alan Midleton. Should anyone wish to assist me, it would be greatly appreciated.

Occam's Razor is whispering to me that perhaps St. Cuan was enlisted by the St. Edmundsbury council of tourism to increase the flow of sightseers. Really, though, they may have found a more coherent saint. And what good is Occam's Razor if not for slitting things?

With all the hope and joy of a soot-stained orphan forced into labor before the age of ten,

Sneakily Not Louise Brooks
The Manor House, Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk UK - Tuesday, October 19, 2004 at 17:35:31 (EDT)
Captain and fellow compatriots,
I may have found something worth our ageless rose bush with a single rose. I am tempted to pluck this lovely specimen (which happens to look very much like something from my underground gardens) and bring it to you all. I am being watched very closely though by a large, hairy woman in a bathing suit bearing an iron mace. There's something about this rosebush though....At any rate, I am currently located next to what appears to have been a pub covered by something viscous and black...And no Captain, I had nothing to do with the viscous-black part. Apparently it was that way before we came here. So, I shall stand and silently wait next to this lovely bush and endure the odd odor of fermenting grapefruit whilst I wait.
May the Shadows bow down.

PS I fear the unpleasent stench may be coming from the...woman's bathing suit. Please hurry. I fear she may shed on me.

Bury St. Edmonds, Near something Black and...Oozy - Tuesday, October 19, 2004 at 04:03:45 (EDT)
Oh it’s good to place your feet on terra firma again. We have landed to the North of Bury St. Edmunds, where the stench of the sugar beet factory helps disguise the smell of a week’s habitation within a tobacco-rich atmosphere.

Things I have learnt about Bury St. Edmunds so far:
1.The Mansion houses a number of interesting and ‘mostly harmless’ chronological devices.
2.The Local History Museum contains some grisly artefacts celebrating the media furore that was ‘The Murder in the Red Barn’.
3.Mr. Nicolas Cave (Antipodean Miserablist) stays there when trying to escape the grey smog and elemental abuse of London.
4.The ruins of the abbey are made of sharp local flint, which regularly cuts unwary passers-by and allows profane blood to drip over the abbey gardens.
5.St. Fursey’s clock is not to be found in The Macebearer, The Black Boy or The Spread Eagle. It has been suggested by Mr. Shaftsbury-Merrimann, that we should be looking for the device outside of drinking establishments, but temperance has never been part of my modus operandi.

Capt. S.S.Hendley
The Old Country - Monday, October 18, 2004 at 12:41:17 (EDT)
Oh please leave up the message about the person whose belly rings for you. I find it rather amazing, personally.

I Can See Your House From Up Here - Sunday, October 17, 2004 at 15:20:19 (EDT)
Our belly-rings special for you!!!
belly rings <>
HI USA Continental - Sunday, October 17, 2004 at 02:55:11 (EDT)
Dear Captain,
As I take my Silent Witness duties seriously, I decided to leave you message here...While the cloud cover is truly fantastic I must note that the shag you smoked smelled oddly like my Sumerians after bathing and that should I turn up missing from the balloon when daylight returns, I assure you I shall return shortly. I had to jaunt home to retrieve a little something I forgot.
Faithfully silent and enjoying the company of troupe greatly...
May the Shadows bow down

Somewhere being quiet, - Saturday, October 16, 2004 at 01:52:03 (EDT)
Damnably comfortable these vestments!
Must find out what fabric softener the nunnery uses.

Examining the blasted landscape below us, I wondered aloud if we had drifted into some hellish-parrallel world in which Satan had made his kingdom top-side. I was assure by my colleagues that we would be leaving the Detroit airspace soon enough, and that I should just shut up and resume napping.

I ache to pugilise something.

In a Balloon Built For Several - Friday, October 15, 2004 at 08:42:04 (EDT)
My, these clouds do seem to be getting darker. I am adjusting well to my fear of heights, and I think I could get used to balloon travel. Oh, Dear Captain, with all due respect, I feel you may have erred. That nun you smoked your pipe with last night was...well...that was Buck, not I. Perhaps a little less Rum before we embarked may have steadied your eye, although as Buck and I are identically clothed, I can partly grasp your confusion. Nonetheless, I do have a small confession. I did sneak a large pinch of mullein in your pipe mixture in order to keep your lungs clear and insure your good health for when we arrive. I felt inspired by both this damp air and a sense of duty, and hope you see it as an act of goodwill. I have decided to change into Raihyven's apparel as soon as we land to avoid any further confusion, but will keep my vestments close by if needed.
Saint Marie of No Particular Order
confusion good question - Thursday, October 14, 2004 at 15:31:38 (EDT)
I am currently writing this message from a hot air balloon on a Northern passage to Bury St. Edmunds. Most of the team are together and despite the cramped conditions and the independent character of many of the passengers we are still in good spirits. The quest for St.Furseys clock has very much started.

To shield us from the prying eyes of potential, real, surreal or hyper-real enemies, myself and a couple of colleagues have disguised the balloon as a wayward cumulus. The effect was achieved by filling my pipe with a grimy tobacco called ‘Aunt Bacteri’s Olde Medicinal Shag’ and puffing ‘like billy-ho’ (as they used to say in the regiment). I was particularly impressed that although Saint Marie confesses to have never tried this vice before, she is a fast learner and now smokes like a trooper.

The Old Country - Wednesday, October 13, 2004 at 14:09:46 (EDT)
Clever Captain and Crew,
I have lingered a while in repose at the Abbey whilst sorting my thoughts and beseeching those above for blessings on our departure. Raihyven, I am so pleased with your selfless offering of apparel and, yes, black is no stranger to my wardrobe. I do think it wise for you to arm yourself heavily, and I myself do plan to harness a few tricks up my sleeves...and various other places.
Buck, I most certainly agree that my attire may be extremely vexing and handy subterfuge. I will happily raid the vestments closet in your honour. I must add that a martian-slave-girl bikini might be a welcome blessing after countless years of adorning these well-worn robes, at least for the pre-departure soirée. I will carry my faithful vestments with me on our journey, however, in case they are needed.
I must confess that I've been well cloistered I have no experience plundering nether-regions, but when that time approaches I feel it may benefit me to disrobe.
Thanks to you who will not be mistaken for Louise Brooks for suggesting Bury St. Edmunds. I agree that St. Cuan's dissident quickstep around the true facts in this matter make me question why he would mention it at all!
The Manor House is indeed intriguing and seems a favourable beginning. I now must go rest, but will be prepared for this enterprise when the time comes, I assure you. I have strained a shoulder muscle trying to quell yet another stir caused by St. Cuan's visit. It seems he left behind a House of Breguet limited edition Tourbillon wristwatch on his nightstand, and for the sake of peace in the Abbey I had to silence the damn thing as it refused to stop repeating it's minutes. The task was dreadful, but necessary.

Saint Marie of the Reclining Marauder
Shabby Abbey, IL USA - Monday, October 11, 2004 at 05:14:50 (EDT)

Having been dreadfully busy tying up loose ends, winding up slack ones, and searching for a suitable back-up host form for myself to jump into if the need arises, I have not yet had time to consult with our dear Saint Marie.

However, as far as a first destination point goes, I have one most assuredly in mind: Bury St. Edmunds. Granted, it was not the childhood home of St. Fursey and really has very little to do with any of this. Nonetheless, seeing as it is home to The Manor House, a museum with a horological collection to rival the one in the Shambles, I believe it's as good a starting point as any. St. Cuan was the one who perpetrated these lies, if you'll recall, and I can only imagine that he selected Bury St. Edmunds because of it's connexion to...well, clocks.

Yes, I believe we should mark our maps, cast off the sandbags and begin the long floating journey to England (as soon as everyone is assembled, of course).

With Eternal Duplicity,

Vapourously Not Louise Brooks
Mass carnie grave outside of Chicago, IL USA - Sunday, October 10, 2004 at 23:09:11 (EDT)
perhaps in time a humble barefoot doctor with some small knowledge of the arts chronological could find a home within your troupe.

My heart beats slower these days, and I think a little workout would do me good.

Kanshi Ng
USA - Saturday, October 09, 2004 at 18:09:30 (EDT)
Thank you kindly Captain. I understand that on occasion it will be necessary to remove my weapons but until then I shall remain comfortably armed. I am looking forward to our adventuring.
May the Shadows bow down

In a pub, In some lost corner of Chicago - Thursday, October 07, 2004 at 15:51:57 (EDT)
So, with Saint Marie filling the much-needed apothecary position our expeditionary force is complete and we can begin our hunt for Fursey’s Flying Timepiece.

I would suggest that we spend the next week packing essentials, saying goodbye to loved ones and locking-up our more troublesome clocks and watches in safe places. Then if the one who isn’t Louise Brooks (in collaboration with Marie) can ascertain a suitable starting destination, we should be off: pausing only to make periodic updates here at the HoC Guestbook for the benefit of the horological community and, in the event of us splitting up, to provide a safe means of communicating with each other.

Raihyven, I have no problem with the Silent Witness bearing arms, but please be aware that some of the places we may be heading for may ask that you leave weapons at the temple door or the temperance bar.

Marie, I agree with Buck, that due to nature of the timepiece we’re going after, I would suggest that your garments might grant us access to places that my bluster or Buck’s teeth might not. I personally will be wearing a waistcoat that despite having several bullet holes in the back and an embarrassing claret stain on the front has been blessed by two Popes and a high-ranking Lama. My fob watch is 24-carat snarling-silver and has a thirty-foot long watch-chain. My suit will be a standard warrior-class pale number made by Withmores of Saville Row. I would suggest that we pack lightly as the angel-winged beastie that we are chasing is unlikely to slow down if it becomes aware of our presence.

The Old Country - Tuesday, October 05, 2004 at 14:44:06 (EDT)
Kindly Saint Marie,
Should you need them, I believe I can supply you with slightly more mundane clothing. I'm guessing an all black color scheme would not bother you in the least if the need for other clothing becomes necessary. Just do not ask what the garments are made of...(nothing grotesque I assure you.)

To the Captain,
Would you so kindly inform the large, drunken red-headed fellow that I am not some "chickie" and that petting the feathers in my hair will only get him the loss of a hand? He talks to you before he stumbles toward me. I generally would not ask this of anyone but I do not want our grand adventure starting off...bloody. I have to say that this limited chrono-anomaly that still radiates around me is quite useful. At any rate, I shall finally meet you face to face shortly.

May the Shadows bow down

P.S. Is it wrong for your Silent Witness to be fully armed? If so, I'm dreadfully sorry and will find somewhere to store my weapons.

There, and Here - Sunday, October 03, 2004 at 18:47:20 (EDT)
By the almighty cog, it seems we've all come together like a snug little puzzle!

It seems too fortuitous for reality.

Saint Marie, the only clothes I have to offer would be a metallic martian-slave-girl bikini, stolen from a science-fiction convention in Idaho a month back. I usually let my clock-work-slave-girl wear it, but as she has no signifigant anatomical features that can't simply be shut and locked... I suppose you could wear it.

As far as your wardrobe hampering our stealth... you must think hard on the group you are preparing to set out into the world with. I for one think that your wimple and robe may be the most intimidating outfit that any of us could hope to wear in some of the nether-regions I'm sure we'll be visiting.

I wonder if you have an extra set I could borrow?

Chicanerically Charming Chicago - Sunday, October 03, 2004 at 15:44:10 (EDT)

I am delighted to hear of your enlightenment! St. Cuan always did strike me as a bit dodgy, I'll have you know. And indeed, it seems you will be a valuable asset to our fellowship. You're a regular Hildegard von Bingen, you are!

And as far as suitable garments may want to speak to our mutual friend, Buckingham. He's quite an expert in procuring garments at, how they say...the drop of a hat.


Resentfully Not Louise Brooks
Chicago, where the meat grows on trees, IL USA - Sunday, October 03, 2004 at 15:42:56 (EDT)
Goodness gracious and goodly bless us.

Oh Captain and stalwart crew, forgive my delay in answering such a beckoning to adventure. I do feel the lord works in mysterious ways, and other gods conspire as well to bring forth such serendipitous circumstances. There is much to be conveyed in a limited time. The revelation of such a notion brought me to investigate the mystery of the specter clock that hovers in obscurity. It seems the suspicions of one whose appointment it is NOT to be Louise Brooks were completely unerring. Saint Cuan bestowed more to this Abbey on his visit than guidance and wisdom. Indeed there is reason to hold him suspect, and I dare say to hold him responsible for diverting one from knowing the truth of the floating clock and its abilities.
After several bottles of the Abbey’s medicinal liqueur, St. Cuan unwittingly revealed the following to me. (His tale grew to great lengths during his visit.)
If captured and configured appropriately from the ninth hour of the day to cock-crow, this hallowed time piece could gift us with the ability to reverse our own aging process. By reversing the hands of the clock, one can travel back through time and experience anti-aging benefits retained when time is restored with no injurious consequence. It seems that the abbot has in fact used this clock to refresh not only himself but the Abbey and all its occupants. Apparently it has fallen out of his possession after so many years of manipulation. Having never stepped outside the Abbey except for a few trips to Brussels, I am now faced with the uncertainty of my actual age. My memory has not been sharp these past few years. Seeing how this has changed my outlook towards Abbey life, I am willing to abandon my duties for however long it takes to locate and harness this clock. It is widely known that, although I have taken these noble and chaste oaths, I fall short of the duties of an Abbess and certainly of a Saint.
In regards to my contribution as a member of your crew, my dear captain, I believe I may have some use. As fate would have it, I have written many treatises about healing and the medicinal uses of plants, animals, trees and stones. In fact, without my extraordinary powers of healing and gifts for music, I think I would be removed from my station. I would be happy to act as apothecary on your expedition, my captain, and as fate would have it, I also play a mean violin!

Thank you all for your concern regarding the integrity of the abbot. It seems his need to imbibe cost him much and he has retreated to Ireland to contemplate his own misgivings. To you, captain, I offer my loyalty on this venture and my blessing. I will remain at the Abbey sorting out what year it is while you organize the expedition. To the rest of you I wish you well, and could someone see fit to loan me some mundane clothing before we set off? I think my robes would somehow lesson the achievement of stealth. Au revoir et dieu vous bénit!

Saint Marie of the Declining Order
Shabby Abbey, IL USA - Sunday, October 03, 2004 at 04:20:17 (EDT)
Buck, could you bring along your Clock-work Lady to fill the remaining pugilist post. I know she might not be the most obvious choice but with a can of oil and some brass polish, she should prove more reliable and deadly than a band of Hussars.

To accommodate the wishes of someone-who-is-not-and-never-has-been-Louise-Brooks, I am employing Mr. Shaftsbury-Merrimann as our team’s forger. Like most representatives of his trade he is not trustworthy, but I can vouch for his musical ability: he is one of the few individuals I know who is not only a forger, but also a fiddler.

Now if only I could find an apothecary with experience in the horological arts, then I could open up a bottle of Chateau Moribund that I had been saving, and toast the start of our Grand Enterprise.

The Old Country - Friday, October 01, 2004 at 12:51:03 (EDT)

I would be happy to have an audience with you regarding the voyage. However, I must remind you that I am not actually ON screen, and that when I say "audience", I fall no way into the equation as some form of cinematic entertainment. While on that topic...if anyone calls me 'Lulu', at ANY point over the course of this trip, I will not be held responsible for my actions. You have been warned. At any rate, we will discuss these matters in full when we are all together, I am sure. I have some last minute errands I need to take care of before this all gets underway.

As far as other members go...hmm. It's such a pity that my fellow Klezmer troupe members have all messily perished. We could certainly do with a touch of music. It can be quite therapeutic; it can calm great beasts; excite village simpletons to action! And we will doubtless encounter all manner of village simpletons! Yes. I think our group needs a musician...a fiddler, perhaps?


There are remarkable wind gusts that naturally occur when one is floating about in a hot air balloon. Surely if your bowler hat, crisp suit and pearl-handled umbrella were to, er, blow away from you, and into MY possession, you would not hold it against me! I am no more capable of controlling the winds than a bottleless Aeolus.

See you lot soon,

Theoretically Not Louise Brooks
Waiting in Chicago, IL USA - Thursday, September 30, 2004 at 01:46:54 (EDT)
Oh and Buck,
The steak knives are not horological in nature but they are perfectly capable of cleanly slicing through bone. By all means keep them. I have plenty of knives. Until later.
May the Shadows bow down

Where it does not matter, Quandry - Wednesday, September 29, 2004 at 23:31:32 (EDT)
I shall gather what information I can from Shadow along the way. Sadly, I have no recommendations for other positions as most of my encounters are...prearranged. I miss spontaneous things. I shall see you on the morrow eve. Look for me in your usual pub where the shadows grow deep dear Captain.
May the Shadows bow down.

Within the Shadowmanse, Quandry's darker half - Wednesday, September 29, 2004 at 23:11:11 (EDT)
I will have it known that I am a master of the ancient Asian fighting form of Byte-Yu. It involves discipline, patience, fortitude of mind and spirit... and a sharp set of choppers, both upper and lower.

I shall be the most pugilistic of pugilising pugilisers to ever pugil... as your pugilist.

Most exciting. Yes yes!

p.s. What time-pieces should I bring? Anything lethal or load-bearing? Sentient or sub-servient? I have one operational clock-work lady left, some pieces of the whirligig clock, one demonic cuckoo clock (bagged in Florida for my own personal use) and a rather lovely set of steak-knives (possibly horological in nature?) that I lifted from the Quandry. I also have the contents my private collection, but as you know, the contents may be a bit of over-kill in some situations.

It is odd, Captain Hendley, how I once swore to kill you (still 7-5 on your end of the court) and now I giggle like a boozed-up school-girl at the idea of allying myself with you. Most peculiar indeed.

I most be bored.

On the Winding Path to Chicago - Wednesday, September 29, 2004 at 19:25:00 (EDT)
Ahh it’s good to see old hearts beating like more youthful organs at the prospect of another Great Adventure. I would gladly work with Buck, Raihyven and the one who should not be confused with Louise Brooks, if you will in turn work with myself and any others who I deem as necessary for the endeavour. I have also been approached by Gator-legs Pinke (who some of you might remember as the first man to tunnel to Ilkley Moor without a hat) who has volunteered his services as a spelunker.

If I might count you as one of the pugilists Buck (although I know your methods of ‘self-defence’ are seldom confined to bass fisticuffs), whilst Raihyven can act as the necessary silent witness (I believe you have performed these duties before to the Clockers of Maine), then if I might have an audience with Not-Louise-Brooks to discuss the ideal starting position, I shall rely on her/him as my ecclesiastical expert.

I apologise heartily for defining such well-rounded individuals by such simple responsibilities but I have found that in the past it has been useful for each member of the team to know the boundaries of their responsibilities before the offing. I, of course, will be expedition leader. This does not mean I claim to be better than anyone, just that in matters of debate, I shall be casting the deciding vote. For those of you who have never worked with me before, please note that I am a brave, decisive and punctual leader and will only accept cowardice in the event that I am leading the swift retreat personally.

Assuming that Buck, Raihyven, Not-Louise-Brooks and Pinke are in agreement, have any of you any recommendations for the remaining positions.

The Old Country - Wednesday, September 29, 2004 at 14:18:47 (EDT)
I just hope that if we're all in a hot-air balloon together, tis person who is so emphatically NOT Louis Brooks doesn't try to swipe my nice shoes, hat and my dear Windy.
S/he's always trying to swipe my stuff.

Although, I must agree, with him/her wholeheartedly about this St. Cuan fellow. Why, I recall one poker game I sat in on with some of the more... questionable saints, in which Cuan was in possesion of no less than SIX aces in one hand (The aces of: Spades, Hearts, Diamonds, Clubs, Stars, and Little Duckies). He claimed the whole thing was a miracle, and that the will of the Lord was present in his draw.
I mean, honestly. Little duckies?

He won one of my oldest French Marble Porticos.
Cheating saintly bastard.

Traipsing Down the Train Tracks. - Wednesday, September 29, 2004 at 11:58:01 (EDT)
Hmm...Sounds like I upset you a bit Buck. So sorry. Really. At least I turned down the price on your head. I shall attempt to behave better next time.

To the Captain,
I could possibly fill your slot for the silent witness. Your adventure perks my interest.

Until whenever...
May the Shadows bow down

No, - Tuesday, September 28, 2004 at 23:56:13 (EDT)

I am a modest soul, and would hesitate to call myself an expert in any field; however, I do have something of a zest for ecclesiastical matters. Balloons can be fun, too, especially when used in conjunction with the skills of an apothecary...

Ahem. Back to my point. All, exploring aside, there are a few matters which need to be set straight. I fear you've been put on the wrong path altogether. Bury St. Edmunds is decidedly NOT the home of St. Fursey. It does, however, have a great deal to do with St. Edmund, who had no clock and is therefore of no use to us at present. St. Fursey did reside for some time in Suffolk; he set up a neat little monestery inside the enclosure of Burgh Castle, where he spent a great deal of time sweating, and speaking to the Picts.

There is one oddity amongst all of this: Bury St. Edmunds is home to The Manor House, a museum which contains, among other things, a sizable horological collection. I am beginning to think we need forget St. Fursey altogether. He was a bit notorious, you see, for his angelical visions and powers of ressurection. It is my belief that St. Cuan took advantage of this reputation when HIS -- not St. Fursey's, but HIS floating clock was discovered by his underling monks.

Oh yes, it's all well and good for a respectable abbot to be witness to a miracle; this sainted abbot, however, stinks of treachery and deception! I suggest Saint Marie guard herself, if he is still skulking about. He may try and steal your supper.

Yes, it is St. Cuan who should be tracked, in order to discover this floating clock. LORD knows what other things may be ticking away, in the blessed dark...

With too-much-time on her hands, in every sense of the phrase,

Pontifically NOT Louise Brooks
On the Red Herring Trail, USA - Tuesday, September 28, 2004 at 22:46:32 (EDT)
Captain! Your endeavor sounds like too much fun to be passed up! I'm a bit of a jack-of-all in that I've done some fist-fighting, done some cavern-crawling, know how to handle a balloon, and have certainly defiled enough religious temples to know a thing or two about thir cultures... I know enough herbs to at least poison or zombify, and can forge everything from handwriting and official documents to fingerprint and DNA evidence. I would never be one classified as 'silent' however, and all my eye-witness accounts have to be taken with a block of salt. I am a dabbler in all crafts, an expert in none, but would be more than happy to helo fund your expedition and join you in your quest. The great creator has indeed drawn a line in the sand for us to, each and every one, prance across like the macabre mutant children that we are.

Please consider my application tendered, as I plan on meeting you soon in the general proximity of the House. (Not too close, mind you, wouldn't want any unfortunate mishaps after all). Please let me know if I can be of help, or if I should plan on becoming your hated nemesis in this endeavor, slowing you down at our every move. I'd hate to waste any precious time. A message here should do fine.

As for what to do with St. Fursy's clock once it is located? Heh-heh. All things shall sort themselves out with time, my good man. All things.

Since becoming a super-hero has failed miserably, I feel an adventurer and artifact seeker in the vein of Quatermain may be just the niche I am looking to fill. I wait on pins and corkscrews for your reply.

On the Road Again - Tuesday, September 28, 2004 at 16:13:38 (EDT)
To the collective minds that meet here.

It seems that Mr.G. has set us a challenge that so far only Saint Marie has answered: ‘Where is St. Fursy’s Clock?’

I believe Illinois is an unlikely resting place for the evangelical instrument and I’m trying to put together a group of ‘explorers’ (I have never liked the word ‘plunderer’) to help me locate the item for the House of Clocks. I believe that we should start in Fursy’s hometown of Bury St. Edmunds (whose ruined Abbey and ruinous public houses, I know well).

I would suggest that the clock itself be donated to The House of Clocks, but any other less-interesting-but-equally-valuable-artefacts uncovered in the expedition should be shared amongst the group as bounty.
I am currently looking for:
An ecclesiastical expert.
A spelunker.
A forger.
Two pugilists.
An apothecary.
A Balloonist.
& A silent witness.

All applicants can find me in my usual haunts amongst the Shambles more friendly drinking environments.

The Old Country - Tuesday, September 28, 2004 at 15:55:41 (EDT)
You realize, my dear Raihyven, that that is a chronological impossibility. Your anachronistic habits have always put me off more than any of your other foul mannered behaviors. Try not to be both behind and in front of me again, or we shall exhange words, I assure you.

Deja Vu.

Away from a burning bayou. - Tuesday, September 28, 2004 at 11:03:24 (EDT)
I just realized something...I do so apologize for the cuckoo clocks Buck. It seems I was there a bit before you. I apparently let loose the clocks after finishing my work. Sorry about that. Anyway, I have a very disgruntled fellow to fee from.
May the Shadows bow down

In a place not for polite company, - Tuesday, September 28, 2004 at 02:24:03 (EDT)
Hello again. I ought to let you know that, in my boredom, I did attempt a bit of work with my shucked peas. I began by disassembling an old dial clock of mine, which was in all likelihood my first mistake. I had been assured at the time of purchase that it was not actually FROM the Victorian era, and was strictly for novelty purposes. I suspect I was lied to. Even novelty dial clocks are generally sold for more than two pennies. I should have known something was up when the merchant in question wept tears of relief as I walked away with my purchase...

At any rate, my venture ended in something of a mess. Squashed pea-bits everywhere, a fresh pendulum wound on my hand...and now the pretty, evil thing has taken up residence in my elderly neighbor's vegetable garden. I would take action to remove it, but well...she's got another ten years on her, tops. It won't be a great loss.

And to dearest BUCK -- I like the way you think. Homonculae and all. After this experience I would very much like to pay these vegetable clock-making former comrades of yours a personal visit. I suppose I should begin to plan this jump-of-sorts.

And to...Saint, was it? Yes. Saint Marie. Where precisely IS this Shabby Abbey of your Declining Order located? I, too, am in Illinois, you see. I'm not doing much at present, vegetables aside. On my good days I daresay there's part of me that would love to...BE...a nun.

With a small smile,

Corporeally NOT Louise Brooks
Chiiiiiiiicago, IL USA - Thursday, September 23, 2004 at 17:12:41 (EDT)
Despite the toil and isolation, life at the Abbey lately has seemed innocuous and soothing. My latest excursion to Brussels was complete with exorbitant plunderings and bewilderment. I aquired the treasure I sought in Brussels, a Swiss Louis XV style Neufchâtel clock with a black backing and coloured flower decoration. I have to admit, I strayed far from conventional Abbey decor, but Sister Constance Lacuna's reminder that we were vacationing was incessant and inspired me to indulge my whimsy. I will savour that holiday for eternity. Always the perfect holiday companion, Sister Lacuna surprised me that day in Brussels. After securing my new timepiece in our hotel safe, she emerged breathless from behind the door and revealed a bounty I couldn't have imagined. From underneath her robe she produced a couple of the most ample shaddocks I had ever seen! My feast was so decadent some might have deemed it unholy. Sister Constance Lacuna remarked to me that she wished our respite would never end. The memory is still so fresh I can smell it! Life at the Abbey is rewarding, however. I must remain steadfast
and humble in my chosen duties.
Saint Cuan is visiting for a undisclosed time, and has been dispelling rumours that the abbey is home to a legendary, inanimate spector. Tales have been tossed of a flying clock once believed to be gifted from above to Saint Fursy. I can assuredly say that the myth is just that, a fabrication. No clocks in the Abbey can fly, but they do often move their hands about in a futile attempt at levity.

Saint Marie of the Declining Order <>
Shabby Abbey, IL USA - Thursday, September 23, 2004 at 01:23:26 (EDT)
Things have taken a rather southward turn here in Florida. It seems that while I've been sleeping nights my body has been leaving my mind tucked under its pillow and jaunting off on its own. Several pets and slow-moving grandparents have gone missing. The plague of cuckoo clocks has been put to a stop, but I must be moving on soon, as I think the natives have begun to suspect me (no one's said anything overtly yet, but I suspect they may be calling in some help from an outside source). I shall be moving on soon.

How odd that Raihyven would be headed down to this foot of the woods. Perhaps our paths shall intersect.

And to the fellow who proclaims his innocence from being Louise Brooks: I happen to know of two very talented clockwork gardeners who specialize in vegetable-based timepieces. Not made from peas, I think, but some rutabagas and one giant heirloom-squash that was naturally "grown" into a grandfather clock. One is based in south Birmingham operating her own novelty store, and the other is in southeast Asia, near the old carrot mines (now closed due to vorpal bunny infestation) he may or may not be dead, but this may or may not hinder you from contacting him. They used to be partners, until a violent falling out (although I insist he was pushed) between the two. Good luck.

Also, considering your 'short-leash' issues: I would first ask if it applies to both physical and spiritual halves of your being. If only the physical, simply do as I do, and seemingly "die" in one area, popping up in a convenient locale elsewhere. I've done it before. Simply find a convenient homunculus to place yourself into until a proper body can be reconstituted. It's quite a lot of fun.

Also: Has anyone found a sundial that causes the sun to become eaten by an ancient god? If found, please contact me here in this guestbook. I'm a collector you see, and interested in buying. I have a little cabin I've recently bought im the tropics, but its much to warm there to ski... so I'm really looking for something to control the climate. Let me know!

Cheerio all!

A Floridian Hell of My Own Making - Tuesday, September 21, 2004 at 18:34:41 (EDT)
Yes, I'm afraid. That will happen if you ride about on enough coattails. Fishtails. Serpent scales. It changes, from time to time. Oh dear, now I'm feeling a bit cowed.

Florida, eh? Is that where the action is? I'd visit there myself, I would, if it weren't for the short-leash effect I seem to be cursed with. That being said, I'm quite bored, and rather miss my -chimerical- adventures.

Have any of you lot had success with crafting timepieces from shucked peas? It sounds like a worthy venture, at this point.

Apathetically NOT Louise Brooks
City of broad shoulders & cloven hooves, USA - Monday, September 20, 2004 at 22:24:10 (EDT)

So now you're chimerically NOT Louise Brooks? That's wonderful dear. It's good to see you're still alive and doing. I hope things go well for you and yours. Now I must go as I have two hours to arrive at a swamp in Florida so as to "find" some fellow called - nevermind that part...I wouldn't want to give it away.
May the Shadows bow down.

Between here and no where special, - Monday, September 20, 2004 at 13:30:19 (EDT)

Well heeeeeeere we are again, aren't we now? This is all rather uncomfortable, for me.

I resolved, after my incident with the pendulums, to wash all remaining traces of the House of Clocks, the Shambles, and you sordid (yet creamy and delightful) lot from my life
altogether. It's true, my dears, I fled! I fled, all the way to the mountainous terrain of Idaho, where I intended to begin a simple life as a factory worker. It came to pass, however, that I made the mistake of stopping at progressive-minded dry cleaners. My dapper suit was a bit soiled from my adventures, you see. Why I entrusted them with my bowler hat, wing-tip shoes, and pearl-handed umbrella (his name is Windy Riley, by the way) I shall never truly know.

Suffice to say my belongings were stolen. Naked, bereft, I wandered through the darkened streets and back-alleys of Boise, now unable to attend my job interview. To my luck I
stumbled, in my desperate wanderings, across an errant Klezmer band. Owing to an unfortunate incident involving a bass clarient they were short a member, and so accepted me into their fold. All was going well, for a time. I was given new clothes, learned to play a few tunes...
Sigh. We made it all the way to New York (narrowly avoiding Chicago in the process) before Istvan decided he wanted to have his pocketwatch fixed. It had ceased to tick many years before, though he retained it still, for sentimental purposes. I warned him stoutly against
it, but Istvan was always headstrong. Needless to say, with my predeliction for attracting horological monstrosities, it was only a matter of time before this brief golden period in my life was irrevocably destroyed. Istvan...well, Istvan never was the same after poor
Yankel's head exploded. I'm afraid it wasn't a very subtle pocketwatch.

Needless to say, after the worst of it, I blacked out. I woke up to the pungent aroma of dead fish; for some odd reason I was on a Shoreline boat, the purpose of which is to give tours of the Chicago river.

Inexorably I am drawn, again and again, into the clutches of this sense-forsaken city. I suppose I simply must accept my fate, and remain here, to provide what meagre assisstance I can, when TIMES call for it...

Oh, and one more thing... I find this spam problem a bit disturbing. Frankly, it reaks of clockwork. Surely there is something we can all DO? We'll just have to put our heads together! And well, if you're lacking a head...just stick something out, it will have to suffice.

With Utter Duplicity,

Chimerically NOT Louise Brooks
Bound in Chicago, IL USA - Sunday, September 19, 2004 at 13:52:51 (EDT)
Also, if I may address Monsieur Anonymous? Forgive the neglect of any social morays, but I was curious if you were of any relation to a man I met whilst shopping for a gilded timepiece in Brussels. The impression he left was acute, as he was a distinguishable gentlemen of liberal girth who carried with him quite a "l'air du temps"... Odiferous? Just curious.

Saint Marie of the Declining Odor <>
Shabby Abbey, IL USA - Saturday, September 18, 2004 at 03:34:47 (EDT)
Pardon me, but I think the proper addage is "Encore!"

May peace be with you and your ambiguous quips.
Saint Marie

Saint Marie of the Declining Order <>
Shabby Abbey, IL USA - Saturday, September 18, 2004 at 02:15:37 (EDT)
Such interesting things I have read here. First of all, I do not boil people (or anything else) for the purposes of eating them. I can only assume the reference was to a Sumerian. I am glad that Buck has departed from my home though I do have to ask if he would like me to store the items he left behind or if he would prefer that I just disposed of them. Either option is suitable. I apologize if Quandry seemed so difficult but I happen to find it comfortable. I promise those that can successfully make the journey to the manse...the effort is well worth it. It seems that I will be leaving shortly myself...I believe I'll be seeing Buck in Florida. It appears I have been hired to take care of someone causing some trouble in a swamp there.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Tuesday, September 14, 2004 at 23:23:02 (EDT)
My parents didnt know how to spell Hieronymous. So Im Anonymous.


Um I dont know Toctoc personally, but I have heard of a woman in italy who just gave birth to twins whos faces were ringed with numbers... these may be relatives of his.

Just made me think of them when I read your message. Hope this helps.

Sorry about the book.
How much for a copy?

Anonymous Maximus
Here at home. - Tuesday, September 14, 2004 at 19:06:16 (EDT)
To the lovely Laurie J.Percival Sage (of the Ipswich Sages,

My dear, I am glad that you shall treasure the memory of our evening together for always, as I shall. Although, to be honest, much of it seems quite vague to me now. Perhaps the after-dessert absinthe?

I am only thankful that the multi-verse of Theremin realities is now finally being semi-coherently catalogued.

I would do anything for you, as you know. Except tell you the secret of the berries. I feel it would... change your view of me.

Also, don't forget to prune the clock once every four months. I usually tried right around the solstices and equinoxes. I'm glad it suits you, as the two of us often disagreed quite violently.

I am fighting the good fight here in Florida, and have managed to keep my on-the-side snacking to a minimum. I find it hard, however, as the craving for human flesh seems to be an integral part of my being. Are there any superheroes that consume the flesh of their nemeses? I shall have to research this. Those of you not familiar with this guest book may not realize that I am actually not quite human, but instead a sort of mutant-temporal-anomaly in the flesh, brought to life by a classic mad-scientist. After some cohesive rituals involving a kleptomaniacal werewolf, a chap who speaks in all three tenses, and a woman quite literally out of this world... my form was lent some stability, as was my sanity.

I have since battled constantly with my flesh-lust, and have made it a personal goal to reduce my cannibalism to the barest of minimums.

The cuckoo clocks here in the bayou are actually quite cute when not devouring the locals, and I have already begun the process of having them rounded up into crates for transport to the Shambles. I would sugest finding a seperate room for these whimsical instruments of death and destruction, preferably lined with plenty of newspaper, as they tend to be quite... 'ploppy'.

I shall write again soon enough.

A desolate Floridian Bayou with no name (but several mini-malls, oddly enough) - Tuesday, September 14, 2004 at 18:58:53 (EDT)
A message for Thadeus T Thadeus, or indeed anyone else searching for Roger Walthrop (of the Brighton Walthrops). I’m afraid that I cannot tell you where he is, but I might be able to provide some information that a more dedicated detective could follow up on.

In 1998 Roger worked for me at the Glen Malighne Distillery (disused) as a research assistant for my book ‘A Graphical Account of the Entertaining Life and Career of Toctoc the Clockface Boy’. Due to a conspiracy of evil publishers, this book is no longer available in bookshops, but I have several hundred copies in my cellar which I could make available to anyone for a good price.

Roger at the time sported an impressive full beard and an unlikely Welsh accent. Good luck finding him, he owes me fifty guineas, a round of drinks and a rather attractive antique ooze-clock, which he borrowed one Summer.

In return for this information, I wonder if anyone in the horological community could tell me the current whereabouts of Toctoc. We haven’t talked since our slight altercation at the book’s launch.

Capt. S.S. Hendley
The Old Country - Monday, September 13, 2004 at 18:32:49 (EDT)
Oh, Buckingham, you flatter me, really you do. I shall never forget the evening we spent together, wherein you outlined that beautiful submission that came to be.

The scones, the cream and - O! - the jam! Such preserve as I have never before introduced to my tastebuds, and certainly not the temerity to dare hope to encounter in my passage through this life.

A mystery though the berries involved remain to me (as you assured was necessary), their taste shall ever linger warmly in my memory and upon my tongue.

In closing, I thank you once again for my gift. It reminds me of a carriage clock my late grandmother once owned, only hers had - I believe - been de-needled in early 1956, for reasons undisclosed.

Yours fondly,

Laurie J.Percival Sage (of the Ipswich Sages)

Laurie <>
Stockport, UK - Monday, September 13, 2004 at 07:35:40 (EDT)
Annapolis. I’ve been to Annapolis, and trust me—this goes beyond Annapolis people. This is a big smelly mess we’ve gotten ourselves into yet again. I tell you what; they’ve been spitting lies since the forties.

I don’t trust people from Annapolis. I don’t like people from Annapolis, and if I come in contact with someone who has been in contact with one of their kind, I--I wash my hands and hold them up in front of the microwave, (because I like magnetrons).

If I had a band I would call it the ‘The Incredible Exploding Marbles’, or possible ‘Enders Game’. But I love Irish people. Just don’t believe anything Orson tells you, that damn Annapolis conservative traitor Who Slumbers beneath the Waters and Who Shall Rise again in the Time of Greatest Peril. Narf.

Oath Breaker <>
wintersprins, FL USA - Saturday, September 11, 2004 at 20:22:14 (EDT)
Greetings and salutations,

I am writing in the hope of contacting Roger Walthrop, of the Brighton Walthrops. My last encounter with him was in in his role as dedicated amateur horologist of note, and professional antiquarian.

At our last meeting in December 1984 he took ownership of a family heirloom of which I am now quite eager to regain.

If he reads this, or if you are in direct contact with him, the twentieth anniversary is nearly upon us. If a suitiable medium from my direct family line does not coat the inner workings of this item within the sadly slim celestial window, the hands will begin to move.

This must not come to pass.

Thaddeus T Thaddeus
Weston-super-Mare, UK - Saturday, September 11, 2004 at 10:14:15 (EDT)
can there be any site more boring than this? - answer - NO

Mr_Cheese <>
UK - Saturday, September 11, 2004 at 07:37:40 (EDT)
You must be mad...otherwise you wouldn't be here.
The Apothecary
The Forbidden One (take your pick), Universal DisHarmony USA - Saturday, September 11, 2004 at 02:24:04 (EDT)
Just a friendly hullo, expect a deluge of comments from the Gaiman Army. Very interesting site!! I would have put this in the local dialect but I'm not scheduled for my regular fit of madness until the morrow.
HouseOfRock, Dreamscape - Friday, September 10, 2004 at 22:07:00 (EDT)
Hah! And hah again! Well…ah…Yes! Now I recall! After many harrowing months spent chasing that inhumanly ghoulish festering pustule upon the generally pink and firm flesh of Mother Earth the late Alfred X.J. Mandrakejowls III I have returned! Hah! He chased me and than I chased him etc…Oh, and there was an unnecessarily melodramatic bit at the top of a waterfall wherein that whippet of a Nancy boy plunged to his (I assume) death (I wasn’t about to go poking around for a body…no one could have survived that kind of a tumble). So! Well. Yes! I recall! How exactly do I return to my tea plantation near Calitcutt? I assume one of you…er, persons know. So out with it! I’ll box yer ears you bunch of blackguards! Damn, blustering usually works. I’ll simply have to wait. Damn.
Eustace Q. Wittenshire-Askew Esq. Noted Solicitor and Sometime Notary Public
Not Bloody Calicutt, I'll tell you that my old son!, Blustering, Drunken Confusion USA - Friday, September 10, 2004 at 17:03:10 (EDT)
I have dispensed with my long and rather silly nom-de-plume (sp?) and will remain with the short and sweet version with which everyone is most familiar.


I have given up the life of a flesh-eating yet playful rogue, and will now dedicate my life to superheroism. The reasons for this drastic change are twofold.

First, the that fact that I left the Isle of Quandry by Ferry, circumventing the need to first kill myself, forcing myself into a hybrid astral/ectoplasmic state in which I could then possess the body of some unknown vagrant that the world has chosen to ignore and forget (in this age of technology, forgotten vagrants are getting much harder to cme by, believe it or not). So... I'm in a rather cheerful mood concerning the ease of which I escaped the Quandry, which I had been led by certain parties to believe was some sort of temporal sink-hole or some other such hooey.

The second reason is that while I was on the Ferry off the Isle, I met a small man from the remote bayous of Florida (which in this age of technology are also getting much harder to come by... but still do indeed exist) who had come to the Quandry seeking assistance in a chronal-related dillema. He said he had traveled to Chicago in search of the House itself, having read about it on the internet (apparently even remote bayous are getting DSL these days) but had been unable to locate the geographically challenged Shambles of the area.

So in another random stab at solving their present woes, this young man set out to find the Isle of Quandry, which he had also heard about on this very web-site. The inhabitants of the Isle, while very knowledgeable and predisposed to matters involving all kinds of temporal distress, are also rather dour and unfriendly, even going to the lengths of attempting to boil this young fellow alive for their dinner. He was more than put off by this behavior, and left the isle with the small surviving group of ill-fated tourists who had assumed this was the Ilse of Quayles (This being the theme park of the ex-vice president of the same name... a rather dull place in my estimation, and just as deadly in its own right). This young man happened into me as I made my desperate, but slow-paced escape from the Isle of Quandry on a slow-moving Ferry that smelled faintly of cheese and butterscotch.

He introduced himself, and I did the same, watching as the light of recognition lit up his one good, dull, very-slightly piggish eye when he realized that I was the same Buckingham Frondsworth III mentioned on this very website. This was of course the first time I had heard my alias spoken aloud before, and upon realizing how utterly silly it sounded, I vowed never to use it again.

The young man, named Ralph Hootinholler, described to me his woes over the three hour journey back to the mainland, and I must admit to feeling my once cold and carniverous heart begin to melt at the hearing of his tale.

He said that his remote Floridian Bayou (so remote it is only called the Bayou Time Forgot, which seemed to be an awfully long name for a remote and unknown bayou that apparently has both DSL internet, and its own Borders) was currently under attack by a vicious army of cuckoo clocks, that had taken to releasing a deadly volley of swiss-made canaries and bluebirds on the hour, every hour, which then took it upon their little wicked selves to fly around menacingly, pecking out the eyes of any victims found. This, I explained to the poor chap (whose large and rather gaudily decoated eyepatch now made perfect sense) was less than a days work for an expert of my calibre, and that I would be more than happy to return with him to his swampy abode and help throw off the tyrannical clock-work monstrosities currently plaguing it.

So I am on my way southward, (or northward, depending on the current location of the Quandry. I have no compass, though Ralph seems to know where he's going, thankfully.) with my new friend Ralph. He enjoys long walks on the beach and cuddling in front of the fire, although I have asked him to stop doing these things until we have returned to the bayou and put an end to the current threat there.

I have no battle cry. I have no flashy cape or mask, or even code name. I have only my wits, and a suit stolen from a dry cleaners in Boise, complete with shoes, bowler, and pearl-handeled umbrella. But I have dedicated my life to superheroism... so we'll se how this pans out over the next few days.

I can always revert back to cannibalism.

Buck (No longer Buckingham Frondsworth III, because it's silly)
In Search of the Bayou Time Forgot, Florida - Friday, September 10, 2004 at 11:39:04 (EDT)
Never seen so many clocks :D cool pages

Pekko S
Sweden - Sunday, September 05, 2004 at 06:18:02 (EDT)
USA - Thursday, September 02, 2004 at 16:16:43 (EDT)
This is a small message for Mr. D,
I assure you that travel on the astral plane is not so...crowded everywhere. Should you care for more information on the subject, by all means contact me here at the Quandry but take heed. At any rate, good luck in your endeavors.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Wednesday, September 01, 2004 at 05:35:07 (EDT)
On the 20th of January this year Mr. Morris Grabb of the firm Grabb, Lute and Plunder posted a message requesting the repositioning of his client Mr. Terrence Markeson, whose cadaver is a popular feature of the eastern hallway.

This matter falls under the aegis of the late Mordecai Mulroney who first catalogued the piece for the House, and therefore, in my role as Mr. Mulroney’s literary executor and corporeal representative, it falls to me to convey his response.

Sadly, since the aforementioned Mr. Mulroney has long since awakened to the life immortal and currently occupies a position in the House’s dark and veiled twin, contact with him has understandably been difficult, a situation exacerbated by heavy astral traffic and a long-standing mechanical defect in my motorised planchette.

These factors account for the delay of 222 days in responding, for which I must sincerely apologise.

Having considered the matter, Mr. Mulroney feels that repositioning the Markeson display on the main stairway would only serve in distressing members of the public as they entered the building, directly contravening House policy which states that visitors must only be distressed in areas with no immediately available exits.

I trust this at least temporarily settles the matter between our two estimable but deceased employers.

Mr. D.
The House of Clocks, - Sunday, August 29, 2004 at 12:29:30 (EDT)
I need an imformation about free school horology on line.I'm Brazilian and I dont know site international about this area.Please help-me.
My e-mail is:, and,

Reinaldo Basílio <>
Imbituba, sc Brasil - Saturday, August 28, 2004 at 01:59:35 (EDT)
There is some guestbook software called Web Genie that is pretty solid at getting rid of guestbook spam. You may want to Google it as I don't have the exact URL. Otherwise you can probably just run a search and come up with one or head to and they may have some free software. Best of luck!
Sean <>
USA - Thursday, August 26, 2004 at 15:45:54 (EDT)
Funny, I posted this URL Before, but it didn't come through... so here it is, my faithful fellows.

It should be duly noted that I plugged our activities there, to attract traffic of a less... insidious nature.

Buck Once More
The World of Theremin - Wednesday, August 25, 2004 at 21:33:20 (EDT)
I don't know how long this page shall remain clear... I must be brief and to the point. As we all know, there is a Great Creator (N.G.), who inspired the stunningly beautiful and wise webmistress of this web-site to introduce us to the deep and dangerous world of the House and its off-shooting realities. There is a similar web-site inspired by that same Great Creator, that I have recently come upon in the same manner as I did this one. I invite you all to investigate. I have, myself, have already contributed, and encourage you all to do the same.

With a tip of the hat, a rakish wink, and a promise to write more and in deeper depth soon,
yours sentimentally,

Buckingham Frondsworth III (More often known as Buck)
USA - Wednesday, August 25, 2004 at 21:31:24 (EDT)
USA - Wednesday, August 25, 2004 at 13:05:09 (EDT)
Great site :)
Fully Baffled

Fully Baffled <>
USA - Wednesday, August 25, 2004 at 01:13:04 (EDT)
It doth seem that when the sun dost come out the Maelstrom doth hide it again in short order... Ah well, I will continue to surf the storm, awaiting the time the Maelstrom blows away...

May the Mystes Enshroud Me...

Gryffin Mystseeker
Isle of Mystes, Somewhere above the Maelstrom - Wednesday, August 18, 2004 at 23:12:47 (EDT)
Great site, unfortunately it looks like some hoodlums go to your site. Thought the stuff on finding clocks inside animals was interesting. Not sure if it's true or not though.
Buck darling,
If my home is so displeasing I suggest you simply forget your interesting little pocketwatch, dress as a tourist and get on the boat with the rest of them when they leave. Sound nice to you? I'm sure we have enough spare touristy type clothing situated somewhere around here. Stay or go...your choice.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Saturday, August 14, 2004 at 16:32:18 (EDT)
Ah! The air is sweet and fragrant! The light once again touches upon the vibrant green valleys of this world... and makes me happy to be alive-- What am I saying? I'm lucky to dodge the daily assasination attempts by the Servants of the Green Monkey Armpit Hair. But it nice to see this old place in good repair once more.

I am still on the isle... though it seems the borders have closed themselves once more. It will be a painful and wasteful process, freeing my soul from its grasp. I have many decisions to make in the near future.

A (perhaps not ) Happier (but certainly more satisfied) Place - Saturday, August 14, 2004 at 11:44:41 (EDT)
guymen idon land hereoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
mugu <>
lome, kkj togo - Thursday, August 12, 2004 at 19:11:05 (EDT)
Dan Korvas <>
Chicago, IL USA - Wednesday, August 11, 2004 at 17:35:16 (EDT)
I have to agree with Kricket and the Lady Raihyven... The Chaos is becoming too much for even myself to bear... I shall be waiting for the whispers to come from a less chaotic place...

As the Mystes Eshroud Me
I am

Gryffin Mystseeker
Isle of Mystes, Somewhere above the Maelstrom - Monday, August 09, 2004 at 19:21:53 (EDT)
I'm sending someone around to collect a few of the family timepieces. Not the one with the poppies on the casing, nor the moon-clock (which I acquired through the sisterhood), but the three that come from Oscar's collection. Please hand them over. I don't know how messily they'll go when Oscar dies. And please don't try to hang on to any. I promise I'll videotape the whole thing, so you don't miss any of it.
spam filter <>
USA - Sunday, August 01, 2004 at 11:19:56 (EDT)
Much to my shock...I believe Kricket may have a point...Oh my. Indeed.
May the Shadows bow down

Sinking in the madness, - Friday, July 30, 2004 at 01:18:04 (EDT)
This place is accursed now (and I don't mean the good kind). Shall we all forsake it?

I sit and stare in ragged grief..
This disrepair breeds disbelief.

Mr. Kricket
The Center of the Maelstrom - Thursday, July 29, 2004 at 18:27:26 (EDT)
Buck Darling...

It seems this watch is still having an odd effect upon my existence in the chronostreams. I saw you leave the library twenty minutes ago...and you have yet to arrive. Please be aware that the grandfather clock at the very end of the hall WILL eat you should you come too close to it. I'm afraid I haven't fed it in weeks as it seems I have not been home enough. At any rate, being the dashing gentleman that you appear to be (and a bad boy to boot) I suspect that I shall once again see you shortly. Look to the deepest shadows and you shall your gypsy girl has grown into a woman...Until then,
May the Shadows bow down

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, July 26, 2004 at 04:41:33 (EDT)
I like your site
johannesburg, gauteen South Africa - Monday, July 26, 2004 at 04:21:36 (EDT)
Can't breath...too
May the Shadows bow down.

Drowning, In the Mire - Friday, July 23, 2004 at 15:35:44 (EDT)
Very interesting site, looks like your guestbook got ruined
Chicago, IL USA - Tuesday, July 20, 2004 at 04:06:41 (EDT)
Can NOONE save us???
Lost in this chaos!!! - Monday, July 19, 2004 at 23:53:55 (EDT)
Very interesting site. I'm a collector of antique clocks and have been researching on the web. I have bookmarked your site and want to say that you have a very nice site.
Dan <>
Chicago, IL USA - Thursday, July 15, 2004 at 00:52:43 (EDT)
Dear Captain,
How much would you like for those lovely little beetles? I'm willing to negotiate. Perhaps we can make some sort of interesting exchange. Cheers good Captain.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Wednesday, July 07, 2004 at 15:50:49 (EDT)
I see your sense of humor has remained intact. I was the girl with the raven feathers in her hair. I've changed a bit since then and I no longer wear the least not in this form anymore. See you again soon.

Online Routenplaner <>
Hamburg, HH DE - Wednesday, July 07, 2004 at 12:13:43 (EDT)
i don deyooo..pls keep offfffffffffff
mugu <>
lome, lm togo - Wednesday, July 07, 2004 at 09:33:11 (EDT)
To those of you who have missed me (and I’m sure you are multitude) do not be concerned. I’m currently very busy trying to reconfigure a very stubborn water-clock that has never been the same since the glaciers retreated and the seas dried up.

However, I thought that the group might appreciate a little of my advice and I am nothing if not obliging.

Mr. MacMunsterfield, have you considered draining the swamp? I am not convinced that the creature that you refer to really exists, but like all creatures, the destruction of their natural habitat tends to put you in a rather good bargaining position. For further practical advice on identifying and thwarting crypto-zoological entities, I would humbly recommend my book; ‘How to Identify and Thwart Crypto-zoological entities’. It is out of print, but I’m sure that for a small fee I’ll be able to locate a copy in my attic.

Mr. Kricket, I’m afraid I’m immune to your pleas for allies against Mr. Frondsworth. To be honest, I have always found it more profitable to ‘trade arms’ with both sides than ‘take up arms’ with just the one. However do not lose heart, old man, for although I cannot support your militaristic endeavours I do instead have a number of trained whirligig beetles that you might be interested in... for a reasonable price of course.

The Old Country - Monday, July 05, 2004 at 16:16:33 (EDT)
Kricket! So sorry to hear you're still...whatever.
Regarding your precious beetles all I can say is that they make a wonderful crunching sound. Oops. Although I may have my foolish moments I never recall simpering (though I'm sure that somewhere along the bloodline we might have had one that simpered for a couple of seconds). My ill-repute is rumor. I happen to consider myself quite an upstanding individual. I suggest you just...dither away at your calculations. Shall I send you an abacus?
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, in the library, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Saturday, July 03, 2004 at 22:31:41 (EDT)
I am... displeased to say the least. This is, of course, a violently repressed understatement.

The whirligig clock was not a plaything. It was an artifact of immeasurable power. The whirligig beetles contained therein were of ancient and incalculable worth. To hear that ANY of those precious insects may be damaged or destroyed brings my metaphoric blood to a rolling boil.

Calculations have been irreversibly damaged and will now take months to realign. I implore all those who parley on this site to think of the trouble this Buckingham Frondsworth III may have caused you in times past, and to bring those grievances to the front. He is currently being harbored on an island run by a foolish, simpering female of ill-repute and laughable prowess in the fields of chronomancy. If any of you bear ill will toward Buckingham and his allies, contact me, and we shall forge a covenant. An alliance dedicated to eradicating this disruptive wild-card once and forever.

I beseech those of the Tigler line. The fellows Hat'Mut, and Kanshi Ng. The Walker and the Wrack (with whom I of course still have unfinished business... that could be forgotten) even the kindly old Captain who so fickly contibutes his occasional two-cents to this site. Do not sit idly by. Take heed, take action, take revenge.

I sit in silence, dreaming of violence.

Yours as always,

Mr. Kricket
Upon An Astral Zeppelin - Saturday, July 03, 2004 at 20:45:22 (EDT)
I do kindly ask that you stay out of my personal suites, so the answer is...stop now. The pocketwatch is with me as I'm not foolish enough to leave it sitting around. Should you get this promptly, please come down to the library where we can talk about this watch. Thank you for letting me know about the Sumerians' use of sick time. I shall make note of it in the logs and make all the necessary arrangements. And yes, they do have dental...and vision plus paid holidays. How do you think I ended up with such loyal servants? I'm afraid that I will have to find a way to replace the whirligigs...At least they made a lovely crunching sound. Sorry Buck, I thought they were Krickets. See you in the library.
May the Shadows bow down.

Waiting in the library, - Saturday, July 03, 2004 at 15:35:43 (EDT)
Where is Scarboroughsburghaven? It sounds made up to me. I've heard of Scarsboroughburghamlet... but not the other one.

Jenny's not so bad once you get to know her. She has a sister, Peg Powler, that you really have to watch out for though. And Nan Longarms, although only related by marriage is also quite the snippy tart when she wants to be.

No idea on the wristwastch though, mate. Sorry.

Hey Rave--
Just wondering about this room here with the locked door... did you say NOT to pick the lock... or to go ahead? I'm having trouble reading your messages due to an incredibly short attention span. Please reply soon, as I've almost gotten in.

I sense that the pocket watch that you described is somewhere near. Do you have it on your person or is it secreted away somewhere? I'll have a couple clockwork girls begin looking for me.

P.S. The Sumerians were a much more rowdy and jovial bunch when I finished eating their comrade, at your reccomendation. We've been engaged in a threeday game of strip poker... which was more chilling than fun. Sumerians are hideous upon disrobing. They tell me to tell you they're using up some of their accrued sick time. Whatever that means. Do they receive health and dental in addition? Also, be on the look out for some escaped Whirligigs. They are very ancient and ravenous... and dizzy. They must be recollected or replaced.

Ever the rakish rake,

USA - Saturday, July 03, 2004 at 15:19:04 (EDT)
This is not exactly an horological question, but I was wondering if anyone could help me. I've accidentally lost my wristwatch to a rather unpleasant lady who lives in the swamps near my manse. She lives literally IN the swamp, as she is a mossy old hag by the name of Jenny Green Teeth. I was passing over one of the old bridges that my grandfather had installed himself in the swamps and I noticed a thick clump of duckweed that was making its way towards me posthaste. Up from the brackish water exploded a large, malformed hag with long brazen claws and teeth that were well... quite as green as you might expect a lady living under the half-stagnant water of a swamp to have. She eyed me with yellow eyes as easily as large as dinnerplates, and she complimented me on my wristwatch. She asked if she might examine it, and I declined, being of a suspicious type. She offered then to remove my arm from my torso in order to get a closer look at the piece, and I rethought my hasty judgment, and gladly handed it to her to examine. My suspicions, however, were not unfounded, and without further discourse, she sank rapidly back into the water and wended her way away.

The watch was an antique, once a pocket watch and then crudely converted to be worn on the wrist. It is rumoured to be quite valuable in the hands of any member of my family bloodline, though I haven't the foggiest idea as to why.

I've done some research on this Green Teeth lady, and happen to know she ought not exist. This may not be the exact forum into which I should query... but there is not a House of Jenny Green Teeths with such an active guestbook.

Can anyone here tell me how to retrieve my timepiece... and what a fictional faerie creature would want with it in the first place? Also... will the swamp water damage it?

Thank you for your time.

Archie MacMunsterfield
Scarboroughsburghaven - Friday, July 02, 2004 at 23:16:59 (EDT)
Your activities in the manse are rather interesting if I might say so. I do however recommend that you leave off trying to get into the room at the end of the hall on the fourth story's northern wing. Truly, there is nothing there worth prying into. I find it interesting that the moment I arrived home, the pocketwatch quit working...then something dreadfully unimportant happened and I decided to take my time before I introduce myself.
May the Shadows bow down.

Within and Watching, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, July 01, 2004 at 16:11:33 (EDT)
I see your sense of humor has remained intact. I was the girl with the raven feathers in her hair. I've changed a bit since then and I no longer wear the least not in this form anymore. See you again soon.
May the Shadows bow down.

Elsewhere but homeward bound, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Tuesday, June 22, 2004 at 20:39:37 (EDT)
I gave out four flowers. One to a one-legged dwarf, one to a fat italian man named Cyd, one to a gypsy girl with raven feathers woven in her hair, and one to a war criminal from Germany. So you see, there was a lot of flower-handing going on that day and you must excuse me if I am a bit fuzzy on the exact details.

Were you the dwarf?

Somwhere Less Oozy But Now More Sticky - Monday, June 21, 2004 at 21:47:34 (EDT)
Dearest Buck,
I highly suggest that you go ahead and finish the Sumerian. That will put the rest in excellent form, as they despise seeing things only half-done. I apologize for the sunlight and can assure you it will leave quite rapidly upon my return. I shall be home in four days' time at the most as I have...snuffed the irritant I was tracking. It was pleasant. Please go ahead and finish off the servant but I do so kindly ask that you stay with the more mundane offerings in the kitchen there after. Just out of curiousity, do you remember a young woman to whom you gave a flower upon the docks in Venice when you stole that plane? I remember you and I kept your flower.
I am coming home.
May the Shadows bow down.

Storm-Bitter Islands, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, June 21, 2004 at 21:36:57 (EDT)
Actually, MY clocks are all very clearly marked. Why take this piece here... it is clearly labelled "Do Not Touch, Clock May Bite" in completely legible swahili. And this piece here, with the guillotine pendulum and the hand-cuffs has a tiny plaque that rests just beneath the blade, though I wouldn't get close enough to read it if I were you... and this pocket watch here, oozing putrescence and grape jelly, and ichor... well, it had a sticker on the back but its been rather humid of late and it appears to have fallen off. MOST of my pieces are labelled quite clearly. But really... who DOESN'T know that all time pieces are dangerous in some way or another?

I insist you shut up your whining.

Raihvyn - I got half-way through one Sumerian when I remembered what you'd said. I'm terribly sorry my dear, and I fully intend to replace that which was consumed in complete. Of course, I took a room in the catacombs, as the sunlight is rather distressing, (even as it filters through the strange blackish-orange clouds that tinsel the sky about the isle) and have set up a base of operations there. My clocks all tick and hum and whirligig about in the oppresive gloom, and bring a chilly spike of cheer to my heart.

I anxiously await your arrival, as the remaining Sumerians have begun stalking the area in search of me, and I fear they may hav been offended by the half-mastication of their comrade (I don't know if they are offended that I ATE him, or that I only ate HALF of him...)


Somewhere Unpleasantly Yellow and Oozy - Monday, June 21, 2004 at 19:15:18 (EDT)
Perhaps it is damnable quiet because all of you oh-so-much-cleverer-than-thou miscreants have fallen afoul of your frankly perilous timepieces, as they are indicated with, as I have mentioned before, grossly inadequate signage.

Rest assured, you have not heard the last of this matter. As soon as I retain the services of another solicitor--this one with a Classical education--I shall continue to press my suit.

"Tempus Edax Rerum", indeed!

Most Sincerely Yrs.,
E.B. Lytton

E.B. Lytton
London, England - Sunday, June 20, 2004 at 23:36:32 (EDT)
Good to see others have commented on the quiet.

Dearest Buck, I still carry your watch as it is currently aiding in my search for a rather dodgy source of personal irritation. When you reach the land of Infinite Boredom (I know it has a proper name but I have long forgotten it, as my nickname for the place is much more suitable) head south and you will have reached the shores where the ferryman will take you to Quandry. I assume I shall still be meeting you there to return this lovely timepiece.
May the Shadows bow down.

Still hunting down the Elusive Candle, Somewhere in the Congo - Wednesday, June 16, 2004 at 21:45:45 (EDT)
Agreed buck, tis most damnably quiet... My appologies to all for my absence... I, quite litteraly, was captured by a most captivating book on the nexuses of the time streams. But I have clawed my way back from the end of asll things time, and am now ready to sit back and have a snifter or eight of my fine chilled brandy...

Until next we meet, I remain...

Gryffin Mystseeker
Isle of Mystes, - Wednesday, June 16, 2004 at 20:00:42 (EDT)
'Tis damnably quiet.
Nowhere Land - Tuesday, June 15, 2004 at 20:53:34 (EDT) appears that silence dominates these days.
May the Shadows bow down.

In search of the Elusive Candle, Currently Peru - Friday, June 11, 2004 at 21:09:39 (EDT)
For your future reference, when you arrive at the manse, if you are hungry there is a lovely spread of things to eat in the dining hall. I politely ask that you not attempt to eat the Sumerians. They do not like that. I greatly look forward to meeting you...again.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, May 24, 2004 at 19:18:40 (EDT)
I am making my way towards the quandry. I had a few cravings and had to stop off at the orphnage for a snack. Some of my more primordial/primeval habits are harder to break than others.

I have had to kill at least four rather large, humanoid-insectoid hybrids. I wonder who could possibly have set them on my trail? They are almost as intensely irritating as a trio of mad hungarian assasins (of whom I have had absolutely no prior experience; I've just heard).

After I've finished digesting in my ditch, I shall be making way way forward.

Thank you so much for your patience,

An Alien Landscape of Hostile Intent - Saturday, May 22, 2004 at 21:41:28 (EDT)
This pocketwatch has an interesting effect upon myself...
Combined with my natural form of travel, it allows one to bend the Chronostream, propelling onesself either backward or forward in time. So, quite accidently and much to my entertainment, I met my great, great grandmother tomorrow and saw myself entering the House of Clocks (which I have no plans to visit...EVER) yesterday. I like this watch. I believe I shall keep it...that is unless its previous owner should like to attempt its retrieval.

Does anyone know who the previous owner may have been anyway? Just a bit curious.

May the Shadows bow down.

Upon the neighboring island of Kali's Moon, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, May 20, 2004 at 01:56:51 (EDT)
1 Kings 1-2 Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for my lord the king a young virgin- and let her stand before the king, and let her cherish him, and let her lie in thy bosom, that my lord the king may get heat.

Genesis 27-26 And his father Isaac said unto him, Come near now, and kiss me, my son.

Titus 2-4 That they may teach the young women to be sober, to love their husbands, to love their children.

Leviticus 21-14 A widow, or a divorced woman, or profane, [or] an harlot, these shall he not take- but he shall take a virgin of his own people to wife.

Genesis 19-32 Come, let us make our father drink wine, and we will lie with him, that we may preserve seed of our father.

Paul Atredies <>
MongooseCity, GF USA - Wednesday, May 19, 2004 at 05:45:03 (EDT)
To the dear NOT Louise Brooks,
I am glad to hear you are mending and if there is ever anything I can do for you, please alert me. Pendulum wounds are a bit nasty so rest well. And by all accounts, take Buck's advice and ignore the bad poetry.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry but not at home, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Friday, May 14, 2004 at 21:44:37 (EDT)
My Dear (not) Louise Brooks! You are waxing positively maudlin! It must be the Nuns. I have found them to be fiercely crafty little devils that delight in the downfall of all things that I enjoy. You must never trust them.
Except of course unless you ARE a Nun, in which case I like them very much.

My Sincerest

(P.S. I Hope you will forgive the ever childish Kricket, and forget his amateurish eyesore poetry. Ever since he started misspelling his own name he just hasn't been thesame old fellow.)

The Agaric Mines of Zimbabwe (Both painfully obscure and dangerously specific at the same time, I know) - Friday, May 14, 2004 at 20:21:01 (EDT)
My oh my, I suppose it should surprise me that my timing is so acute, although at this juncture in my life, anything to do with timing has ceased to surprise me at all. A tinge of resigned terror, perhaps, but certainly not surprise.

Raihyven, I am going to interpret your curiosity as a sort of roundabout affection; please, do not contradict this line of thought. My necessary solitude has left me a bit...dry, if you will. Thusly I drink from the Well of Humanity whenever an opportunity presents itself, even if said opportunity is self-deceptive.

But I am rambling onwards. This fever has addled my brain a bit; let me tell you, suffering pendulum wounds is a most risky of ventures. This mending period has not been precisely delightful, although I did rather like the nuns.

Frankly it both awes and terrifies me, how you all go on in here about your most delicate, personal business. I share a drop, a morsel of advice and the bloody Brotherhood of the....well, you needn't hear titles. But I extend the slightest bit of help to a community I purposely isolated myself from, and I am besieged. You all seem to get on rather well, with your crystal this and your Whirligig that. Hell, you even have Limericks. Why am I always getting the short end of the stick?

With eternal verbosity,

Belatedly not Louise Brooks
A state of mending, - Friday, May 14, 2004 at 01:57:15 (EDT)
Just out of curiousity...
What ever happened to the person who was so descriptively NOT Louise Brooks? I cannot be the only a little curious can I? Ah well.

Now since my break is over...back to shadow-boxing.

May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry but not at home, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, May 13, 2004 at 21:23:59 (EDT)
Thank you for the brandy and as for the pocketwatch. Should Buck decide he has no need of it after all, I shall keep it. Not only is it a very fine watch but it seems to remind of some things, now that it has begun ticking. It has some interesting results on the flcikerings of time around me whenever I attempt to wind it...Hmmm. I wonder...

As for your clock spring and pendulum, I have a spring that might work but no pendulum.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Wednesday, May 12, 2004 at 19:18:26 (EDT)
Ah, chilled brandy is a damned fine thing indeed...

I have a question for all of you...

Would anyone know where I could find a crystal clock spring and matching pendulum? My crystal grandfather clock has started to misrepresent the time, when I opened it (something I only recommend to those of massive bravery), it seems to have broken a spring... And of course you can't replace the spring without replacing the pendulum, it just isn't done.


I am shipping you a freshly chilled bottle of my brandy... I hope you like it, it seems to be one of the best to come out of the Mystes in the last millenia or so... Also, if Buck does not want the pocketwatch, I will take it of your hands... I seem to have need of a new one...

I am, He who Once Was and will Be Again,

Gryffin Mystseeker
Isle of Mystes, - Tuesday, May 11, 2004 at 20:46:10 (EDT)
neat oh keen and far out , outa site sight to behold, "time us fleeting..madness takes its toll!"
Time is on my side with Orisha and IFA, but this collection of clocks makes the antique road show look like a punch card! WOW!

rumgoatroses <>
schwarcz, nik USA - Tuesday, May 11, 2004 at 15:26:10 (EDT)
Buck, are you still coming for the pocketwatch? If you would prefer, I can actually meet you elsewhere as I am currently able to leave the Isle of Quandry. Or shall I hold onto it for safe keeping?
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, May 10, 2004 at 19:24:50 (EDT)
Look, I'm sure everybody liked this O'Reed fellow lots and lots... but my name is Buck.

I have tired of this argument.

(I would not try to get my poetry sold if I were Kricket) By the way, what ever happened to the last 't' in your name? Didn't it used to be Krickett?

Far Far Away - Monday, May 10, 2004 at 16:44:43 (EDT)
My locusts have returned, and are, at this time, very confused as to where and when and who they've been. As messengers they have always been very reliable, and it pained me to have to obliterae them completely, lest some lingering effect of the Quandry infect and spread. Raihvyn, you are as cruel as any ancestor, and more your grandmother than I am sure even you would like to admit, even under painful, painful duress.

I am disappointed.

Buck, you pathetic misfit miscreant. I will have my clock, and then yours as well.

I knew a man once named O'Reed...
I swore one day I'd make him bleed.
And since that day I've chased his face,
from time to time and place to place.
But here and now, our chase shall end,
And poor O'Reed's weak flesh shall wrend.
I'll care no whit for change of name,
And feed upon Buck's simple brain.


Mr. Kricket
A Far Cry From Pleased - Saturday, May 08, 2004 at 21:37:42 (EDT)
Snide? Me? Never. Confused? Not since fully inheriting the family memories Gryffin old boy. I simply do not tolerate doddering triffles as a rule. As for all the dull blathering you seem to enjoy blowing my direction, I can safely say... Like my dearly departed grandmother before me, I am a part of every shadow and I see what you are up to even when you do not see me.
Now since I have been truly snide I shall promptly apologize for my lack of manners and inappropriate commentary. Dreadfully sorry Gryff. It has been a time since I freely associated with others, and a lack of true privacy would drive even YOU mildly insane. Here I offer some friendly advice...
Hold close to your crystalline chime my friend and be wary of the currently-non-physical giant insectiod. It is a notorious traitor even among its own kind. 'Til the dark takes me may our paths never cease to cross my old friend.
May the Shadows bow down.

P.S. Should the good Captain or Ellie catch this...Is it a good idea allowing Buck access to the most interesting pocketwatch?

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Friday, May 07, 2004 at 19:35:43 (EDT)
To the always snide but ever confused Raihyven,

I am starting to think that being stuck on that horrid little island of yours has addled your benighted brain... I have never picked up your photographs, as I saw the trap before it could catch me, and as for my hand I, er... st.. acquired an upgrade from someone who did not need its services any longer. I would love to stop by and show you all the nifty little things it can do for someone who knows its inner secrets as I have had time to do. Did you know it has this really interesting gob of dar- um stuff that appears to act like a chronometer?
I am, however, taking a small que from you, I have decided to take a small vacation of mine own... Mayhaps I shall see your shadowy, translucent form on my travels... Until then...

Mr. Kricket you *old* grasshopper you,

I knew it was you, I beg pardon if I intruded on your business, however, since Buck has the whirligig I'm guessing that it is his business and not yours. If you would like to re-hash old times and perhaps sample some ofd the fine stasis-aged brandy that I have brewed, and recently broached, I shall remain here until the brandy has had time to cool properly in the wastes.

Freezing, yet strangely enjoying it, I prgress towards my goal...

Gryffin Mystseeker
The Frozen Wastes of Korandor, - Friday, May 07, 2004 at 07:00:16 (EDT)
I have just noticed something quite appears the tides of Quandry have turned to allow me departation from the isle. So I am off while I have the chance! I shall return to Quandry in a couple of days.

To Buck,
By all means, come to my home. I shall return shortly with the pocketwatch. Bring me the Whirligig clock and I have a feeling we shall be witness to a least two wonderous events. At any rate, yes...come to the Isle of Quandry and I shall see you there.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, May 06, 2004 at 21:58:23 (EDT)
An additional notice to Gryffin and Mr Kricket...
If it is within my realm of power, the whirligig clock shall be mine...and the Executioner shall feed upon its gears if I have anything to do with it. If luck is mine, then I shall accomplish what Grandmother did not have chance to do.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, May 06, 2004 at 19:42:34 (EDT)
Ah Gryffin,
While I curse you for the slur and thank the compliment I must question you naivety. I see you have forgotten you only visit to Quandry, so I shall kindly point out the obvious to you. The photographs are tourist traps set by the canabalistic sumerians who serve me so faithfully. That reminds me to ask how your clockwork hand is functioning? I had (obviously) false hopes of you learning your lesson from the last time. So, should you come, remember this:
1. Provide 4 days advance notice
2. DO NOT pick up any stray photographs
3. Bring only wine for yourself if you should like. I have many vintages here that I prefer much more.
Now I suggest you go find something worthwhile to learn instead of randomly flitting about.

And to Buck,
I see my new household addition has struck a chord in you. I shall expect your arrival and have rooms prepared for you here in the manse. Be prepared for the Isle of Quandry Buck. This is the only warning I am permitted to give.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Thursday, May 06, 2004 at 19:36:36 (EDT)
I think I know that watch.

I think I need that watch.

Rhaivyn, I am now on my way to the Quandry.

On a Downbeat Unfortunately - Thursday, May 06, 2004 at 19:17:40 (EDT)
I have killed my shell. I travel faster and more efficiently as a wave-form.

Gryffin... I do seem to remember you. Do you have a regular avatar, or do you materialize randomly? I prefer the later, as it makes me much harder to recognize until the decomposition begins. The Insect star became much too trendy for my tastes about ten eons back. I haven't gone their in... well, a very long time. It is possible that we met there prior to this, of course... but this would have been before the revolt in heaven, and Lucifer's war. I think I'd remember it.

The Whirligig clock is of course neither Buckingham's nor Raihvyn's business (nor your own to be honest) and is necessary in my hobby of eradicating the entire human race. It is powered by a wildly gyrating chain of whirligig-beetles, causing random insect behavior patterns to reflect a powerful and regimented force such as time. These types of devices generate a powerful flux of potential energy, and are very valuable as collectibles as well. With it in my grip, I shall supplant the population with my kind in no time at all. There are better hobbies than the planned extinction of another species, I suppose, but there are few that give you such a sense of accomplishment.

A Place for everything,
and everything gone to waste...

Mr. Kricket
The Realm of Flesh No More - Thursday, May 06, 2004 at 19:11:12 (EDT)
To the ever-so-humble Mr. Kricket,

I see you share a propensity for violence that kindles something likened unto a stirring in my old -well not THAT old- heart, have we perhaps met somewhere out on the multi-verse? Perhaps on the Insect Star? Just a poder for you when you think you might have your thoughts cleared and in order...

To the ever effervescent Buckinham Frondworth III,

I seem to recall having a whirligig pocket watch a very long time ago, but it was damnably akward to carry around, you know, gyros and thigs always popping out when you least expect them to and such.... My advice to you would be to leave the thing in the care of Raihyven, she seems to fancy all the balderdash and rubbish...

To the always-cynical-but-yet-still-stunning Raihyven,
Whoever said I went around other people's islands picking up their photographs? I have enough trouble trying to find my crystal grandfather clock on mine own Isle... However, if I do stop by I shall bring you the wine you enjoyed so much the last time we had time sit and talk and play chess with people and cities...

Until the next toll of the crystal chimes,

Gryffin Mystseeker
Isle of Mystes, - Thursday, May 06, 2004 at 01:55:13 (EDT)
Essence <>
USA - Wednesday, May 05, 2004 at 21:00:09 (EDT)
To the ever-amusing Buckingham Frondsworth III,
Hmmm... Judging by your post I would guess you are feeling a bit...manic today? Perhaps we shall meet and perhaps I will even take that slightly used whirligig clock off your hands (after proper trade negotiations of course). At any rate, have some fun in my honor would you?
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Wednesday, May 05, 2004 at 19:27:40 (EDT)
Razz-a-ma-Tazz Kricket old chap! Hee-hee! Seems someone's got your goat, or got your ticket, or got your goat... ticket.
I do like this newcomer. We MUST get together some time.

I presnetly have a slightly used Whirligig-beetle powered clock and a fleet of clockwork damsles who all aim to please. I can be contacted by means of this guestbook.

Marie Tigler, I seem to have some memories of you that I do not recall creating on my own. Although you and that larcenous lycanthrope were both involved in my detention with Seldon Torcs (sp?) I have had nor PRIOR memories of you until now. Until just recently, my first awareness involved a large vat of protein, and a mad professor who may or may not be now deceased.
I am knocked for a loop here, and seem to remember something concerning a sixth toe? Does this make any sense to you at all?

AAAANNNYYYWHOOOOOOO.... So many have come and then quickly once more disappeared. Where is Hat'Mut? Where's Seldon? Where is the professor whatsisname? Where is Kanshi Ng? Where is Oscar Tigler? Where is that fellow with the elephants? Where's the klepto-maniacal werewolf lady? Where is everyone?

I felt like being rahter fancy today so I sign off with a flourish as,

Buckingham Frondsworth III (To be henceforth known as Buck)
The Bipolar-Coaster - Wednesday, May 05, 2004 at 17:57:51 (EDT)
Mr. Kricket,
I do so apologize for the almost-erroneous reversion to the name which Grandmother called you. It would be wrong to begin THAT little game with you. I assure you, there is no tick and what I have or have not seen behind masks is business between only myself and the perpetual shadows which keep me company. That alone should provide proof enough for you that I am truly Lady Raihyven's granddaughter. If you recall me "knee-high to a grasshopper" as you claim then you would understand why you can insist all you want on seeing my ghost yet know it will not occur.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Tuesday, May 04, 2004 at 19:26:17 (EDT)

Perhaps you think we have met somewhere? Perhaps you think you've seen a face behind the masks, beyond the illusions? Perhaps you delude yourself. Or are you a skilled liar?

Either you have me at a disadvantage, or you have an incurable tick that may only be cured by the removal of the thumb and forefinger.(I'll happily assist.)

Either way... my goals shall continue on unhindered.

I pound my fist against the post,
And still insist, I'll see your ghost.

Mr. Kricket
The Hive - Tuesday, May 04, 2004 at 17:48:44 (EDT)
To the well-remembered Mr. De- err, Kricket,
I can still hear my loving grandmother cursing your existence while she brushed my hair. I look forward to the locusts. They shall be an interesting rarity for the sumerians. Please to instruct them to leave the tourist traps alone. I'll be back to cleaning the Executioner's Clock now. And no Mr. De- err, Kricket, you STILL may not have it.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, May 03, 2004 at 19:22:23 (EDT)

I am suprised to see you writing here. It has not been since you were knee-high to a grasshopper that I have seen you last. (I of course know some rather large grasshoppers, but this is of no relevance). I was a... familiar... hmm... I knew your grandmother, whose name you share. We were were dear enemies, she and I, trying adversely to court and kill one another as the mood struck. She shared many of the fine qualities that the praying mantis possesses. A deliciously dangerous woman she was.
I met her during a brief stretch of tangibility that I enjoyed during the secret-plague eras that struck the areas just west of the Quandry. I took on many human mannerisms that I have since had difficulty shedding, as if a stubborn chrysalis.
I am at this time in the corporeal realms, and would most enjoy another visit to the isle. I shall send a swarm of locusts for your reponse.

To the more than grating trickster-wo-wasn't, Buck.
YOu have something I am looking for. First of all, I have spent enough time as a physical presence in this plane to be most tired of it indeed. I want the Whirligig Clock, and if you are not forthcoming within the next twenty four hours, I shall have the skin flayed from your body by a battle-host of fireants. I have associates that are currently tracking you, and I assure you, I am not without access to you.

With fond regards,

Mr. Kricket
The Seas of Silver and Ash - Monday, May 03, 2004 at 18:43:30 (EDT)
I see your quaint...chatter still entertains you. Studies? Hardly. I have inherited the isle so no worries about my activities. Should you come, do not bother bringing wine as you know how particular my tastes can be. I do recommend that you bring your own supply of bandages and spare appendages as I refuse to provide them when you begin attempting to pick up photographs on your way to the manse. As for lurking in the dark...I do have electricity and an ample quantity of light here. I only prefer shadows and darkness for work. Silly man.

To dear Ellie,
I mentioned a pocket watch in an earlier post having found its way to my door. I thought you might like to know that after providing it a good, fine cleaning I discovered an inscription on the back. Well, it is more a frantic scratching by appearences. If I read it correctly, it simply states, "Preserve us all" along with what appears to be the letters (I am assuming they are initials) H.C.O. You would not happen to have any clues about this lovely little thing would you? Perhaps the good Captain would? Strangely I cannot seem to open it to finish its cleaning. Please, anthing that could help would be appreciated.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, May 03, 2004 at 18:41:53 (EDT)
My what a harrowing adventure in the recent moments of our lives... Oh, soory, I tend to ramble off sometimes. Raihyven... Is that you? I didn't see you lurking over there in the dark... Ah, well, you always had a propensity towards the shadows. I see you still have problems pronouncing my name. Ah, back to your studies young lady! Ha, ha! I shall make it a point to drop by your quaint little Isle and visit, I'll even bring the wine this time!

Hail to the rest of you wonderful people!

I remain,
Gryffin Mystseeker
He Who Once Was and Will Be Again!

Gryffin Mystseeker
Isle of Mystes, - Monday, May 03, 2004 at 18:27:47 (EDT)
Ellie darling! How excellent to see you are still among us! It has been long enough since we last met that I feared I would never hear from you again. I see you still insist on adding the extra 'h' to my name. I would come to visit you so we could spend a moment laughing over our ill-spent youths (only according to others) but I am afraid it is that time of the moons when Quandry will admit others but leaves me quite unable to depart the isle. Should you like to come back out to the manse, by all means do so. The ferryman's schedule has not changed in all these years since we did our holiday studies with my grandmother and I'm sure you remember about the sumerian servants' traps for tourists. But by all means, come, visit and perhaps you can change the tides so we may depart for a bit of adventuring. I see that one of my other associates of old (greetings Griffin) has posted as well. I'm off to discourage the crows from harassing the ravens!
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, Somewhere in the Lands of Fog and Night - Monday, May 03, 2004 at 17:52:58 (EDT)
Interesting site. Glad to visit it.
Mr Clyde Framis <>
Switzerland - Monday, May 03, 2004 at 15:01:11 (EDT)
My what interesting conversation one happens to hear when one happens to pass by on one's jaunts across the multi-verse... A pleasure meeting all of you, I will stop back by again.

Gryffin Mystseeker
He Who Once Was and Will Be Again!

Gryffin Mystseeker
Isle of Mystes, ?? ??? - Monday, May 03, 2004 at 14:01:14 (EDT)
Rhaihyven? Would you, perchance, have attended Miss Chronologos' School for Young Ladies, some years back (I should need to say how many; the family history you gave Mr. P. Lutocratte seems to indicate that we are of similar age)? If so, do you remember Ellie, with whom you used to get in such mischief? Many years ago, I went by my middle name, in vain hopes of escaping the notice of my dear, departed Uncle.
Do you recall the spring that we carefully turned the school's floral clock into a poison garden, still perfectly timed?

If you are the same Rhaihyven whom I recall so fondly, then,
I remain,
Faithfully yours,

If not, please pardon me, and let me be only

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler <>
Undiscovered - Sunday, May 02, 2004 at 05:24:59 (EDT)
To the gentleman, P. Lutocratte:
I regret to inform you that I am not the Raihyven you seek. You would be referring to my grandmother, from whom I inherited the Isle of Quandry with all its interesting...things. She truly was an admirable lady and taught me all she knew. If you knew her well then you know that whacking flowers was the very least of her talents. Like her, I do however enjoy a good cup of tea and a well made macaroon. You are welcome here at the isle anytime you please as long as you give a minimum of four days advance notice. Should you come, I ask that you (under NO circumstances) pick up any stray photographs you should find. If you are the same gentleman, then my grandmother spoke kindly of you.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, - Thursday, April 29, 2004 at 21:48:14 (EDT)
Dear Raihyven of Quandry Ilse

I crave your indulgence for a brief moment. Could you please advise me if you are the same Raihyen who used to live at the Outward Residential Officers and Administrators Club in Rangoon in about 1937?
I seem to recall drinking gin and tea and eating macaroons with a Raihyven. We would take train rides and play whacky whack with my golf clubs, down by the river. I recall that I could never whack the head off a chrysanthemum nearly as well as she; once she managed to send a head of petals almost half way across the river. Extraordinary talent.



Pluto Lutocratte <>
USA - Thursday, April 29, 2004 at 01:55:02 (EDT)
Creme Anglaise, to be precise.

And, well, YOU try coming up with appropriately witty adjectives as you lie bound, the pendulum swinging ever lower...

Marinating, but still not Louise Brooks
Out of the pan, into the fire, USA - Thursday, April 29, 2004 at 00:10:08 (EDT)
Ooh. Now s/he's BELLIGERENTLY not Louise Brooks.


Up a Particular Creek, Sans Paddles - Wednesday, April 28, 2004 at 18:35:26 (EDT)
Is anyone missing a pocketwatch? One appears to have shown up on my doorstep last night. I most assuredly do not want it. I already have enough trouble with one clock. And by the way, has anyone discovered a rather ill-omened photograph of a grandfather clock among their things? If so, please send it back my way.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, - Wednesday, April 28, 2004 at 00:38:50 (EDT)
Well, it seems that posting even the most minute amount of advice in here was a mistake, as my life is now being besieged with one odd event after another. I've had to raid my residence of all time-measuring devices, and am trying my best not to look at the bottom right corner of this computer screen.

Truly, no good deed goes unpunished. I blame you for this, oh one who calls himself Buck!

Captain, I am glad to hear that my efforts were not for naught. However after hearing your tale, I would advise you doubly to hold tight to the Saint Peter emblem, and to avoid midnight trysts at any given crossroads or ramshackle hovel (barns, warehouses, et all).

Belligerently not Louise Brooks
Ticking backwards in Chicago, USA - Wednesday, April 28, 2004 at 00:22:41 (EDT)
To the ever amusing Buck...
That would be LADY. And yes, I know about taglines but thank you for the advice.
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandy, - Monday, April 26, 2004 at 19:13:20 (EDT)
Ah Captain...
If we were ever to join forces, I shudder at the thought.
We could be more damaging to the public psyche than the Super-Friends Power-Twins.
But it shall never be so.

As for Hat'Mut! I have finally sprung the lock, and your ladies have been entertaining! The clock full of beetles was of particular interest. Wasn't someone else on this site looking for a similar item at one point?

My memory fails a bit more with each incarnation.

P.S. Whoever this newcomer may be... I suspect they may very well be Louise Brooks after all. Think about it. Have you ever seen the both of them in the same place at thesame time? I'm just sayin'....

A District of Ill-Repute - Monday, April 26, 2004 at 18:51:15 (EDT)
To the perfidious Buck,
I should have known! Thank you for the present. I will place the horrible hourglass with the other gifts that I have received from you in ‘The Safest of Places’. I’m building quite a collection. Maybe one day I’ll bequeath them to the House of Clocks (with a suitable catalogue of warnings, instructions and protective rituals).

To the one who is categorically not Louise Brooks,
Thank you for the advice. It has been most helpful. At the very least it has prompted me to re-establish contact with a beautiful voodoo priestess I used to know before the last war. We used to dine in Paris on truffles and spam, drink buckets of cognac to disguise our collective rancid breath and then dance the night away.

I regret that it was I that turned her in to ‘The Other Side’, but I was young and foolish then. Even if she will not forgive me, I have such sweet memories of dancing the tango with the mambo with a chicken neck between my teeth.

The Old Country - Monday, April 26, 2004 at 18:37:30 (EDT)
Excellent site, very useful resource for serious enthusiasts. Have you ever considered a weekly newsletter? No, daily would be better. Yes, daily - that would be *excellent*!
Kenneth Goodwin <>
Nigeria - Monday, April 26, 2004 at 16:34:43 (EDT)
Anyone know what time it is?
Gregson Biloxi <>
NYC, USA - Monday, April 26, 2004 at 07:40:48 (EDT)
Oh-ho-ho! Typos from a shaking hand, perhaps?

Captain - do not believe his lies.

CERTAINLY not Louise Brooks
Chicago, IL USA - Sunday, April 25, 2004 at 17:04:28 (EDT)
My grammatical and secretarial/typing skills have gone a bit down hill as of late. I apologize for any confusion.
A Haze of Shame, USA - Sunday, April 25, 2004 at 13:07:04 (EDT)
Captain, oh my captain, my gig is up.
The hour-glass you received was indeed from me, sent as a little prank.
It is in and of itself harmless (providing you do not flip the glass more than once while it is in your possesion)
and was actually bought at a small yardsale while I was in upstate Michigan last month (March is prime yard-sale season in Michigan for those not in the KNOW)
The only properties it actually possesses are the ability to reflect back the image of its owner on the surface of its peculiar time-passing devices,
and to show scenes from the highly popular movie Scream (which is the face you are seeing, NOT the famous Munch painting).
Well, it also has the ability to slowly transform its possesor into an amphibious servant of Cthulu, but this is only if the glass is flipped more than once by any one owner.
(The kindly old Asian man had the left-leg of a large bull-frog, and some amusing anecdotes, let me tell you.)

So to conclude Hendley, you old rascally dodger you, if I truly believed that you were born to a human mother in the natural sense of theat term, I would consider this a charming birthday gift to you. Since I do not believe this, you may certainly consider this an attempt on your life, or at least a very vicious practical joke at the least.
I believe this places us at 7/5 (still in your favor, if you do not count any attempts perpetrated by now-late alter-egos).

To all you others out there, I bid you a fond good day.

A State of Discontent (nopt Illinois however) - Sunday, April 25, 2004 at 13:04:42 (EDT)

I am but an Observer of the lurking-variety; that being said I could not help but observe your inquiry in regards to the unseemly whiskey-bottle hourglass which you chanced to receive.

You say it speaks of voodoo; this does cause my eyebrow to arch. I am uncertain what dastardly syncretism the creator of this timepiece may have had in mind with Munch's infamous Scream(ing) face, but it cannot foreshadow good things to come. Coming good tides. Things. Shadow and fore and suchforth.

At any rate I fear that the very hourglass itself does suggest the presence of the Loa; whiskey having been drunk as an offering, perhaps? Now this is terribly important, you must ascertain the nature of the material which fills the hourglass. I somehow doubt it is as innocuous as sand or salt or some kind of sandsalt. Finicky little grains.

My advice to you would to be to contact a houngan or mambo immediately. Legba is always evoked in these matters but especially in matters of time; you will want to speak to the Lord of the Crossroads. I would also advice you to be wary of itinerant Germans, and perhaps to pick up an emblem of Saint Peter for safekeeping.

Although I do reside in Chicago I keep a distance from the Shambles and rarely care to get mixed up in these affairs; speaking out is a rarity for me but I simply could not bear to bite my tongue this time around. Do keep me updated, though, matters such as these are quite important to me.

Well it's not Louise Brooks, I tell you that.
Chicago, IL USA - Saturday, April 24, 2004 at 22:12:14 (EDT)
This is another message for Raihyven...
My Dear boy, all other matters aside, I must warn you against the invention of any sort of Tag-Line to be added to the ends of any of your messages. I believe n a past life I took to this sort of behavior and was constantly forgetting to add the said tagline (something about doughnuts I believe) and had to constantly make up excuses as to why I had forgotten to do so. It soiled my already badly corrupted reputation irreparably, and I was forced to fake my own death (Which also had something to do with doughnuts. Most important things do you know)
Just a warning to the rookies.

May the shadows bow down indeed...

A Brooding Island of My Own Making - Saturday, April 24, 2004 at 08:31:53 (EDT)
Dear Captain,
Speaking of roosters, I suggest spilling the blood of a young one over your interesting little hourglass. If my kindly helpful voodoo-practising friend explained correctly, teh features on the stones within should begin to resemble whomever sent you the offensive thing. If that does not aid you, I wish you luck in the endeavor to discover that which does help. Now, back to noose-hunting!
May the Shadows bow down.

Isle of Quandry, - Saturday, April 24, 2004 at 00:33:10 (EDT)
Dear Captain,
While I appreciate your offer I find myself rather *ahem* indisposed. I am currently attempting to find a freshly-used noose to replace the charred one currently in my clock, as it has suddenly returned. It looks a little worse from the burning but over all I am glad to see it again. Still, thank you. Perhaps you could still aid me by any possible suggestions on how to rid myself of the clock without dying?
May the Shadows bow down

Raihyven <>
Isle of Quandry, USA - Friday, April 23, 2004 at 21:22:18 (EDT)
This is a message for Raihyven,

If you can make your way to 'The Rooster's Last' in The Shambles (on the 'wrong side' of the Saunders Park) on any Friday night, you might find me, and if you find me with a glass in my hand and a drink in that glass, I might be prepared to exchange a rather strange egg-timer for your threatening sword.

A fair exchange is no crime... and having experienced trials in thirteen countries, I know what I'm talking about.

Capt S.S.Hendley
The Old Country - Friday, April 23, 2004 at 18:52:04 (EDT)
Would anyone care for the greatly malevolent sword from a cursed, recently-torched grandfather clock? I'll part with it quite happily.
Raihyven <>
Isle of Quandry, USA - Friday, April 23, 2004 at 00:27:42 (EDT)
It is funny, how sporadic a group we all tend to be, leaving our little messages here and there from wherever we happen to be at any given time.
It seems that we are a fickle breed, we of the chronically inclined. I am fascinated at how many tiny stories have been spun here and then dropped like broken toys in the schoolyard dust.
I miss the truew intrigues. The dramas. The blood and guts of it all.
Alas, I keep my eyes peeled for new developments always.

A Factory of Pain - Thursday, April 22, 2004 at 12:59:11 (EDT)
I agree completely with mugu.
Ogg Gallivanting - Wednesday, April 14, 2004 at 17:13:43 (EDT)
nwa mugu mugu mugu mugu aba owerri.
mugu <>
lome, asi lome - Wednesday, April 14, 2004 at 17:09:57 (EDT)
Perhaps someone from this site can aid me. I seem to have, er, rather accidentally inherited a deeply disturbing photograph of a clock. The photo is of a grandfather clock in which the pendulum is created by a sword hanging from a noose. Since I discovered the photograph, not only cannot I not rid myself of it, but as the hands of clock toll the hour of midnight I seem to lose a loved one. How might I rid myself of this wretched thing? Every method I have tried till now only results in midnight rolling around much faster in the damned photograph. I'm running out of loved ones and hesitate to make even new associates. Does anyone have a suggestion?
Raihyven <>
USA - Saturday, April 10, 2004 at 04:39:49 (EDT)
Are there any hourglass experts out there?

I like to think that I’m not too arrogant to ask for help when I need it, and I think I need it now. Ever since Fletcher-Bellows drowned in the sands of ‘The Big Glass’ at The House of Clocks, I have been surreptitiously looking for an expert to help with my occasional studies into the more primitive time-keeping devices.

Now matters have moved on and my needs have grown in importance. Someone has sent me a novelty hour-glass made from two 70cl whiskey bottles melted together, with countless finely carved tiny stones inside to mark the passage of the hour. Each stone looks a little like my own weatherworn features and a little like that Screaming Fellow that Edvard Munch once painted.

There is something about this tacky trinket that I don’t like. It speaks to me of voodoo, hoodoo or threat. At the very least the sight of an empty Scotch bottle is an affront to my lifestyle.

I can of course offer no money and I do not deal in contracts of the soul, spirit or psyche, but any free advice will be gratefully accepted.

Capt. S.S. Hendley
The Old Country - Wednesday, April 07, 2004 at 14:32:21 (EDT)
Dear Sirs

What a peculiar and singular site this is indeed!

Having somewhat of a dedicated amateur's interest in Horology, I was directed here by a mutual acquaintance, Horace Lung (KBE).

I was surprised to see that your collection references not only extremely rare and even unique timepieces of significant and material historical import, but timepieces not recorded to my knowledge in any of the literature on the subject, scholarly or otherwise, that I have previously been availed of.

I have, of course, sent communication to Sir Horace enquiring of his knowledge of these matters and expect to engage in dialogue with him as to perhaps establishing a modest collection of my own.

Please allow me to take this opportunity to thank you for giving and old man, who thought he had, perhaps, chartered most all of the range of antiquated horologogy, some meaningful insight into a fascinating branch of collecting timepieces that has previously been, quite remarkably, totally obscured from me.

I am not a native of your country, however I greatly look forward to visiting your establishment personally should I ever visit your Chicago City.

I look forward eagerly to further additions to your extraordinary collection.

Yours candidly
P.Lutocratte (Esq)

Pluto Lutocratte <>
Elsewhere, - Tuesday, April 06, 2004 at 04:28:04 (EDT)

Something most dammnably odd going on here, old son. We've been walking on an easterly bearing without deviation. Me old compass has never led me wrong before, but we seem to have come round in a ashed great circle.

Our final coolies have deserted us, and at this rate we'll be forced to eat Ma'Hut's elephant.

Oddly, the white apes no longer bother us, though the ground is covered with thousands of beetles.

Be of stout heart, chum, I'll have your boy back with you soon!

Charles Fortesque-Phipps O.B.E.
- Thursday, March 18, 2004 at 06:36:01 (EST)
To Mr. Bertrum Falchion:
The questions you ask are most dangerous. Their answers are more dangerous still. Believe me, you do not want to know the answers to all of those, for then you would be one of us, and while you might rid yourself of your haunted timepieces, you would never be able to rid yourself of the disturbances in your life that being an Horologist of our stripe cause.
I will, however, answer one or two of the more innocuous question which most directly relate to me:
It is not so much a matter of the Tiglers not being "permitted" to enter the HoC (though I am sure that the management would frown upon us attempting it), as that, if we did, truly dire consequences would follow. What those consequences are precisely is unknown, as it has never been attempted. But the indications are inarguable. My daughter, Eledora O'Reed-Tigler, may or may not be excepted from this matter, owing to her curious lineage.
My Uncle Oscar (and I must admit, this habit that others have picked up of calling him that mildly appalls me; why would anyone who didn't have to call such a monster by a familial title?) is most certainly dead, although not as gone as I would prefer. Franklin Tigler of the United Canadian-American States is still at large, and he and I play cat-and-mouse through the dimensions. He is not my uncle, although he physically resembles him precisely, and he may yet prove to be the vessel for my uncle's twisted black soul.

To my esteemed colleagues:
I am, obviously, still alive and in good health, although this insanity of Franklin Tigler takes up much of my time. Part of the problem is that his own time-stream runs much more quickly than ours, giving him much time to plan, and me, little, even with the tricks I am able to play. Eledora, as you may have guessed from my above comment, is alive and well, and is tentatively accepting her heritage. She has taken a semester off from the University, but already plans to go back this summer to continue her education. That I agree with her thinking on this indicates that I believe her to be safe from our enemies. I have great faith in the precautions I have taken. She is now even considering an apprenticeship with the Sisterhood once her other education is complete.

Both the West and South Timor Clocks are now in my possession. Ms. Mood seems always on the verge of offering to purchase them or broker them for me to someone else, now that there are two again. She never quite does, as I've become quite attached to them. Ms. Mood and I have become quite good friends, and often visit with one another in the small amounts of time I have for recreation.

That Buckingham appears to have found a position in the HoC itself somewhat worries me, given Hake's final warnings to me on the topic of the House. I am not so much concerned for his safety, as he is a remarkably resilient fellow, as for the safety of others if, as Hake insisted, the House itself has a kind of consciousness, and it inmeshes him in its plans.
I have, however, no intention of doing anything about it. I'm much too busy. Besides, attempting to remove Buckingham from the House might prove to be a rather bad thing...

Now I must return to my chessboard. Good day to you all.

USA, uuu USA - Friday, March 12, 2004 at 05:23:30 (EST)
To mostly honorabling Charles Fortesque-Phipps O.B.E... I am to be thanking you for the transporting of my honest-to-goodness most valuabled assistant! He shall be getting whipped viciously (but also out of the worried reliefings) for his part of allowing the stinky thief Bucky-him-ham to have been stealing my most treasurabled items.
Your current ailingments seem to my mind to be the making of the forces of an outside partysome. I am burning prayer cards laced with zephyr blossomings to aid in your returnabilities. A thousand thanking-of-you's.

Hat'Mut F'Smitlin
USA - Thursday, March 11, 2004 at 20:25:52 (EST)
To the honorable Hat'Mut I simply say: Finders Keepers.

I have not yet mastered the strange (clockworkingable?)locks you have installed on the ladies' cases, but as with all things we folk have a hand in, it is simply a matter of... time.

And whatever it is that resides in those cases with your precious clock-work women will soon be mine as well.

P.S. Although I prefer Buckingham Frondsworth III, I must insist that everyone continue to call me 'Buck' to avoid further confusion. Thank you.

Buckingham Frondsworth III (To be henceforth known as Buck)
- Wednesday, March 10, 2004 at 22:23:46 (EST)

Just a swift note, old son. Looks like we may be a little later than originally planned. Seventeen of the coolies have now deserted us, as we are menaced nightly by a number of large white apelike creatures. I did manage to bag one with the old elephant gun, so I must have a word with that taxidermist you use.

Ma'Hut recovers well and he and the elephant I initially hired to transport him are now inseparable. Fortunately, we are now following one of the old nomadic tracks, which if my calculations are correct, should bring us around the NgZshe pass rather than over it.

Good cheer!

Charles Fortesque-Phipps O.B.E
- Wednesday, March 10, 2004 at 05:12:22 (EST)
You are a being a STINK THIEF!!! Mr. Bucky-hoo-hah-hah! You are beaning my assistant upon his most tendersome of skulls and then doing the knocking of him out of the plane I had chartered for transportationing of my most valued of items! Clock-workingable ladies are not being even the halving of it! You are to be staying out of those crates! Most dishonorable stinky man!
Hat'Mut F'Smintlin
A State of Most Horrible Anguishings - Monday, March 08, 2004 at 18:32:21 (EST)
Henrietta, I understand, of course. We both lead very busy lives.
Considering the buyer, there may be some... accommodation... which might be reached in the matter of the Timor clocks. If it becomes possible, please do attempt to arrange a meeting between us. I can generally be found in one of the three homes you have visited me in, these days. Further travel has become problematic, as my uncle's doppelganger is yet at large. Though I do not yet have proof, I am now nearly certain that Franklin Tigler houses a portion of the soul of Oscar Tigler. May the Three have mercy on my line in these next days...

As to the green monkey-underarm hair, I do not know how it came to be in the possession of Fortesque-Phipps. I never did collect Hake's possessions from Walker and Wrack, and if Eledora did, I do not know of it.

Walker? Wrack? What has become of the inheritance owed my daughter?

Buckingham, I am glad that you have been enjoying Venice, and I hope that you find your stolen clockwork ladies to your taste, or at least your profit.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Sunday, March 07, 2004 at 01:54:26 (EST)
It seems so long since I last had shaken Walker and Wracks’ assassins long enough to frequent these boards. It is lucky that I learned so much from Kanshi Ng as I have managed thus far to elude those agents who are attempting to liquidate me.

Marie I apologise for my silence but I’m sure you understand that between the Old Firm and trying to find new employment my time has been occupied. I hope that your daughter is keeping well and the troublesome Oscar has been well dealt with. Speaking of your daughter I am troubled somewhat by the appearance of Charles Fortesque-Phipps O.B.E and his claims that he has acquired some green hair. If you gave Eledora Hake’s possessions I would ask her what she did with the green under arm hair from the monkey as it may have properties that I was unable to determine. As for the Timor Clocks I do have a buyer for them but the person or should I say entity seems to have an even worse case of the affliction that affected Selden Torcs. Being in a permanent state of temporal Flux not only makes him very hard to locate but cost negotiation nearly impossible.

Buck or as you know wish to be called Buckingham Frondsworth XII I’m glad to see that you are more yourself and the unfortunate incidents in the past haven’t been unduly trying. I know that you and I have had our disagreements in the past but what I did was for my own reasons and I doubt that either of us can put all the bad blood completely behind us. To those considering his application for work in The House of Clocks I would advise against it as it has still yet to be determined whether he’s related to a rather infamous former member of these boards or not and I think the risk far outweighs the possible gains.

Finally Mr Bertrum Falchion what is it exactly that you wish to know of me? You may have read the slanderous accusations of Kanshi Ng but they are greatly exaggerated and he certainly didn’t complain when I was able to acquire some of the rarer pieces he required for his work.

I remain at large,

Henrietta Mood
Nowhere - Tuesday, March 02, 2004 at 10:37:41 (EST)
Ms. Tigler I presume?
I am sorry to say that I have not as of yet heard anything regarding my potential employment at the House of Clocks. I am rather crestfallen about the entire matter.

But my tour of Italy has been quite a hoot! Venice is always invigorating this time of year, and swimming the canals has always been a irresistable dream of mine from childhood(that being since I was born in a laboratory last year) that I can now say I have in fact indulged.

I am most interested in the water clock once mentioned earlier in this guestbook by a mot familiar associate. I look at the channels of Venice and I think of all the inherent potentialities. I begin a mapping project even as I look out over the distant landscape from the vantage of this plane I have most rakishly hijacked. There is a large canvas dropcloth covering some sort of long, clockwork-woman-shaped crates in the back. I wonder what they could possibly contain?

All goes well true believers. I shall write again soon.

Buckingham Frondsworth XII
USA - Wednesday, February 25, 2004 at 17:17:45 (EST)
Mr. Falchion, you have been warned. On your own head be it, then, if you choose to continue your inquiries. I fear you have not the constitution for it, or you likely would have become more involved in your younger days.
Since you insist on remaining, however, I will point out to you that the history of the House of Clocks is posted on this site, that lycanthropes can develope neuroses the same as anyone else, and that the good Captain enjoys staying fit and maintaining his excellent sense of balance physically if not mentally.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Wednesday, February 25, 2004 at 03:08:02 (EST)
I'm afraid, Ms. Tigler, that your response mereley murks up the waters, and does naught to lessen my curiousity, and in fact... piques it.
Bertrum Falchion
- Tuesday, February 24, 2004 at 17:35:43 (EST)


Tally ho, old boy. I don't know if this is the most appropriate avenue of contact for you, but I just needed to drop you a swift one. I was hunting tiger in the foothills of the Bondai region, when I chanced upon your boy Ma'Hut. The poor fellow was in a terrible state, bruised and beaten, clutching a handful of green hair. The fellow was quite hysterical, and was only calmed with a strong dose of Mother Brompingdales Cough Medicine.

Anyway - forthwith, I have procured twenty coolies and an elephant howdah in which to transport the indisposed Ma'Hut. We are about to embark on returning the lad to you, and should cross the upper NgZshe pass by the end of next month. With a bit of luck, I'll have bagged a couple of those striped devils into the bargain. Talk soon, pip pip, old boy.

Charles Fortesque-Phipps O.B.E
India - Tuesday, February 24, 2004 at 09:14:25 (EST)
To Mr. Bertrum Falchion:
The questions you ask are most dangerous. Their answers are more dangerous still. Believe me, you do not want to know the answers to all of those, for then you would be one of us, and while you might rid yourself of your haunted timepieces, you would never be able to rid yourself of the disturbances in your life that being an Horologist of our stripe cause.
I will, however, answer one or two of the more innocuous question which most directly relate to me:
It is not so much a matter of the Tiglers not being "permitted" to enter the HoC (though I am sure that the management would frown upon us attempting it), as that, if we did, truly dire consequences would follow. What those consequences are precisely is unknown, as it has never been attempted. But the indications are inarguable. My daughter, Eledora O'Reed-Tigler, may or may not be excepted from this matter, owing to her curious lineage.
My Uncle Oscar (and I must admit, this habit that others have picked up of calling him that mildly appalls me; why would anyone who didn't have to call such a monster by a familial title?) is most certainly dead, although not as gone as I would prefer. Franklin Tigler of the United Canadian-American States is still at large, and he and I play cat-and-mouse through the dimensions. He is not my uncle, although he physically resembles him precisely, and he may yet prove to be the vessel for my uncle's twisted black soul.

To my esteemed colleagues:
I am, obviously, still alive and in good health, although this insanity of Franklin Tigler takes up much of my time. Part of the problem is that his own time-stream runs much more quickly than ours, giving him much time to plan, and me, little, even with the tricks I am able to play. Eledora, as you may have guessed from my above comment, is alive and well, and is tentatively accepting her heritage. She has taken a semester off from the University, but already plans to go back this summer to continue her education. That I agree with her thinking on this indicates that I believe her to be safe from our enemies. I have great faith in the precautions I have taken. She is now even considering an apprenticeship with the Sisterhood once her other education is complete.

Both the West and South Timor Clocks are now in my possession. Ms. Mood seems always on the verge of offering to purchase them or broker them for me to someone else, now that there are two again. She never quite does, as I've become quite attached to them. Ms. Mood and I have become quite good friends, and often visit with one another in the small amounts of time I have for recreation.

That Buckingham appears to have found a position in the HoC itself somewhat worries me, given Hake's final warnings to me on the topic of the House. I am not so much concerned for his safety, as he is a remarkably resilient fellow, as for the safety of others if, as Hake insisted, the House itself has a kind of consciousness, and it inmeshes him in its plans.
I have, however, no intention of doing anything about it. I'm much too busy. Besides, attempting to remove Buckingham from the House might prove to be a rather bad thing...

Now I must return to my chessboard. Good day to you all.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler <>
Undicovered - Sunday, February 22, 2004 at 16:21:17 (EST)
My friendly the Captain! It is very good to be hearing the words from you! I am of course seeing the messagings on web-sighted list, documentaring many adventures of yours, but I had most assumed you to be dead!

I am most pleasured by this wonderful news.

I am oweing more than just drinks to my sea-desert-jungle-mountain faring companionry! And as you are surely suspicioning, I am of course dealing in muchest more than just the clock-workingable ladies, as I always having my fingers dipped into so many of the different pots of fortune.

I am most many agrrievnaced to hear of all the gangers of ours being deceased or missing in the action. I wonder if all their fates are so well known for the surenest? We must be getting upon together soon.

I hope the sampling ladies all arrived most safely at the House of Clock-Workings, where I am understanded you dwell at this pointedness. It would be most unwiselike to open or operate the ladies of the shortend stature, as they are designed for altogthernow different purposings that the tall ladies have. Be waiting for my assistant, Ma'Hut's arrival please.

Good Once and Again to Have Heard and Read of You

Hat'Mut F'Smintlin
- Saturday, February 21, 2004 at 12:14:39 (EST)
Really! The nerve!

Placing a sign a few yards in advance of "Tempus Edax Rerum" stating "The Illiterate Are Advised To Proceed No Farther" does not--and my solicitor *quite* agrees--constitute a sufficient remediation of the inadequate warning signage hitherto mentioned.

Yours Truly,
E. B. Lytton

E. B. Lytton
UK - Friday, February 20, 2004 at 23:24:33 (EST)
A message for Hat'Mut F'Smintlin.

My dear Hat’Mut,
What a lovely surprise running into your name again here in the guest-pages, it must be ten years since we last saw each other: you running and dodging the Sultan’s archers and making those obscene gestures of yours, and me tied upside-down above a snake-pit. I realise now that we were betrayed by an outside party but for years I suspected that you were partially responsible for the whole ‘Deity Trading Debacle’.

So you’re in the mechanical lady trade now. Well good luck to you. I shall toast your venture with a glass of good Islay, and then I shall fill my glass again and raise it to the old scallywags of the ‘Burma to Bombay Exploratory Society’. Heath-Denning and Sanders are dead, your old pal Kanshi Ng has gone to meet his master, Prof. P.G.Y. Singh was trapped in the rising temple and what is left of the mind of Prater Timpson has actually found gainful employment psychically powering a rather beautiful jewelled timepiece, here at The House of Clocks.

I seem to remember that you owe me a drink or five. Please get in touch.

Capt. S.S. Hendley
The Old Country - Friday, February 20, 2004 at 13:43:39 (EST)
I am a new comer to this whimsical site, I'm afraid, and it has taken me quite a long time to catch up with all the many postings further down the list. What is all this exactly? Is there a pattern to the madness? What is beyond the threshold? Why are the Tiglers not allowed in the HOuse of Clocks? Who built the House of Clocks? Who is Buck? Is he Hake? Where is Kanshi Ng or Uncle Oscar? Why are some people attacked by mice? Why does Mr. Kricket have friends all named after bugs? How does a werewolf become a kleptomaniac, and what is the signifigance of green monkey armpit hair? Why a unicycle?
I am an avid collector of Haunted Time-Pieces, and as I adavance in age, I find myself more and more eager to rid myself of my own personal collection. I was looking to sell, donate, or pay the House of Clocks to remove my collection.
But I really need a few answers first.

Bertrum Falchion
- Friday, February 20, 2004 at 11:32:25 (EST)
I have ladies for sale! Beautiful, clockworkingable ladies that will wind for you and do the dancing for you, and will other things as well. Ladies who are most realistic-like in their movings and groovings. No atomics, so very most sorry, but working steadfastly on such an upgrade. Skin comes in copper, gold, platinum or stainless steel. Low-grade models for external use only, for dangerous of severancing. Please to be calling me, sample models and brochures to be founded at the House of the Many Clock-Workings.
Hat'Mut F'Smintlin
- Tuesday, February 17, 2004 at 17:48:34 (EST)
Another little known fact, which may amuse some here, is that in parts of Western Africa lives the Pretempus Fly. This peculiar creature survives by it's limited precognitive ability, in that is is capable of seeing into the future.

This ability makes it nigh impossible to swat, as it knows where your hand will be in advance.

Morton Thripple <>
Londinium, - Monday, February 09, 2004 at 05:45:24 (EST)
I do not know how long I have. This is a warning to all the chronologically inclined. A virus has begun to spread, and I suspect it is arcane in nature. It targets those who have come into contact with strong chronological forces and powers, and begins to fling them randomly from time period to time period, without warning. Eventually this process accelerates until the victim exists in all places and all times, and paradoxically, then ceases to exist completely. I have become infected, but I have found refuge in the House, which seems to be a sort of quarantine safe-area. I have dodged the Captain so far and many of the more dangerous inhabitants of the House, but I feel my time here is growing short I must find food and water soon or else.
This is a warning! Be alert! I do not know how the virus communicates from subject to subject, but I feel most of those with cause to read and post on this web-site are especially vulnerable. We must find out who engineered this bit of madness and put a stop to it at once!

An Unfortunate Comrade
somewhere, somewhen - Friday, February 06, 2004 at 11:22:10 (EST)
I submit this item of horlogical knowledge to the assembled company for entertainment.

While it is a well known fact the the language of the aboriginal peoples of Australia contains no words for "yesterday" or "tomorrow", (a stunning oversight in any laguage...) it is a lesser known fact that the Micronesian island of Pau Pau has no concept of day or month, recording only hours.

For those interested, the Pau Pauan calendar is currently at 65877823.

Morton Thripple
- Tuesday, January 27, 2004 at 05:40:56 (EST)

On behalf of my client, Mr. Markeson, I should like to lodge a complaint. In his current position in the Eastern hallway, Mr. Markeson has had to put up with a number of indignities. To whit and viz; the grubby pawings of school children upon his glass case, the embarrassment of his daily opening to display his internal workings, and Capt. Hendley's nocturnal unicycyling.

On behalf of my client, I wish to move for a more noble postioning. After discussion we have agreed that the first landing on the main stairway is a more fitting location for this prominent, albeit deceased, member of the International Brotherhood of Meatworkers.

As Mr Markeson's attorney, I am interested to hear the response from the management, or the HoC legal representation.


Morris Grabb
Solicitor: Grabb, Lute and Plunder, - Tuesday, January 20, 2004 at 04:35:00 (EST)
I tire of the short moniker 'Buck'. From this day henseforth I shall be known as Buckingham Frondsworth XII. The entire purpose of my writing here is to put forth an application tothe so called "House of Clocks". My qualifications are as follows:

1. I am of average height.
2. I smell mildly of mulberries.
3. I am well-versed in the art of chronal-displacement.
4. Cheese is a favorite (not ABSOLUTE favorite, mind you, but one fot them, nonetheless) food of mine.
5. I have duelled with the being known as Mr. Krickett while slapping members of the Old Firm about with my bare feet and balancing a rather cranky old uncle (not mine) named "Oscar" atop my head.
6. I can sew. I favor a more Eastern European stitching style rather than the more pointed and blocky American hand.
7. Most animals seem to dislike me. Monkeys, octopi, and wombats however, do not.
8. I am sometimes mistaken for another rather distinguished gentleman of some infamy who was once a regular contributor to this site. We may or may not be one and the same.
9. I forgot that ferrets also tend to regard me with perhaps not affection, but certainly less disdain than most beasts.
10. I am lacking in funds and haven't a clue as to where else an eccentric of my calibre might find employment.

I would like to add that room and board would also be necessary if my employment were engaged. I would like to assure the knoble hosts of the HoC that I require no more than a 3x3 mat in a shaded corner, and three saltine crackers a day in order to survive.

I thank you for your time and consideration.

Buckingham Frondsworth XII
As As Of Yet Unimportant Locale - Monday, January 19, 2004 at 20:41:00 (EST)
Whilst unicycling down the upper corridors of the House of Clocks I was forced to an abrupt and undignified halt by the presence of a small man in a colonial white suit. He appeared to have come out of one of the ‘Perfectly Ordinary Grandfather Clocks’, caught one glance at me in my red dress uniform upon my one-wheeled steed, and ran back into the clock. Upon his exit another fellow in similar colonial whites, came out of another of the ‘Perfectly Ordinary Grandfather Clocks’. This second fellow, ruddy faced and carrying a knife, asked me where the first gentleman had gone. I asked how much money he was carrying and after a quick and satisfactorily transaction, I pointed to the clock in question and he jumped in.
This Museum is becoming a farce!

Capt S.S. Hendley
The Old Country - Monday, January 19, 2004 at 14:50:49 (EST)
Once upon a time I was happy. And the swift sun-fed second hands dropped like petals on my face. But the cold, slow hours swooped in, treacle-like and heavy sucrose, clagged and clogged. Drowning in the sweetness of hours.
He who is known as I am
Not all there, - Monday, January 19, 2004 at 07:28:35 (EST)
Pasty faced mealy-mouthed troglodytic knuckle dragging mouth breathing foolish rat bastard fop indeed! At least I am not a drunken philandering sub-intelligent nouveau riche prig whom never had so much as a toothache molly coddled mummy’s boy! Oh, and ribbing I do say Wittenshire-Askew! I’ve a jack-knife in my boot I would dearly love to rib thee with sonny Jim! For those of you perusing this singular invective let me elucidate what really transpired in said overseers cottage. That jackanape slack jawed pettifogging (that’s how it’s spelled you ninny) oaf said “Why, Mandrakejowls (III)! This grandfather clock doesn’t even function!” he spouted stupidly (as is his real custom.) Whereupon he decided to try and fix it. Fix it I tell you! That ham-fisted lout could no more fix a carnation in his lapel. Before I could warn him away (or brutally stab him a dozen or so times as was my plan) He saw my darkening countenance and tumbled backwards and with a creak as of wood and a curious smell of ozone he was gone. Simpering nitwit. And now I have had to follow that meddling miscreant into a…well a museum I suppose. So there. You have been sufficiently elucidated, and if any should happen upon the erstwhile (for he is soon to be) Monsieur Wittenshire-Askew, tell him he has uttered his last charmingly jocular insult. The cretin.
Alfred X.J. Mandrakejowls III, Evil Genius and soon to be Homicidal Maniac
formerly Calicut, now unsure, insanity USA - Sunday, January 18, 2004 at 20:32:29 (EST)
To Those Whom Have Seen Fit To Appoint Their Establishment With This Vile Horological Nightmare;

For Shame and of all the Damnable impertinance and so forth! Where was I...Yes, indeed! Where was I? I will tell you and then with great applomb I shall drive you to a most unspeakable ruin! For where I was was mine own Tea plantation in India. I was surveying the grounds with my co-conspirator in the purchase of said plantation (one Mr. Alfred X.J. Mandrakejowls III). We retired to the veranda of the overseers cottage and were sampling the product whem the esteemed Mr. Mandrakejowls (III) became very excited over some new acquisition and would have me see it then and there (Damned impertinent when a man is taking his tea!) He led me to a disconcertingly ordinary grandfather clock . "Mandrakejowls!" I said in the jocular manner that is my custom "you miserably mouth-breathing troglodytic wretch (we were at Eton together and so rib each other in this manner often) this is a perfectly ordinary grandfather clock! You it would seem have been duped of your money once again you knuckle dragging fop!" at this Mandrakejowls countenance darkened (quite a feat as he is a pasty mealy mouthed bastard.) "One too many times Wittenshire-Askew have you insulted me!" he said in his wretchedly weasel-like voice. "Never again!" he cried with loutish cliched verve and shoved me into the portion of the clock which would normally house the penduluum and it simply was not there. And now here am I. I and I mean to pettyfog your brains out! Colluding with Mandrakejowls. Unthinkably foolish on your part, as I shall triumph in the soon as I can find the exit.

Eustace Q. Wittenshire-Askew Esq. Noted Solicitor and Sometime Notary Public
This one , USA - Saturday, January 17, 2004 at 22:39:31 (EST)
Neither I nor my solicitor (nor, indeed, my late wife, may God have mercy on her soul) feel that "Tempus Edax Rerum" can reasonably be considered adequate warning signage in the current day and age.

Expect to hear from the aforementioned solicitor in the near future.

Yours Very Truly,
E. B. Lytton

E. B. Lytton
UK - Sunday, January 11, 2004 at 23:46:25 (EST)
Well it has been rather quiet round here hasn’t it? For my own part my time has been dedicated to replacing my previous protective measures with something a little sturdier. The problem is that the poppy seed is extremely volatile in the form required and most of my supply was depleted before I was able to solve the problem. Luckily enough there was some left over and it definitely didn’t go to waste.

It appears that I’m at something of a loose end until I find a new project now that the Rite has been performed and Buck has decided to depart for a while. If the rumours are true something should arise soon that will prove an adequate challenge.

Mr. Krickett given that you sent Webster Weaver after Kanshi I wouldn’t hold out much hope that they’ll be in contact again. He may look like an easy target but during his time he’s learned more tricks and skills than most of us could learn in several lifetimes and you may well be receiving a visit from him soon now that you have taken corporeal form.

Henrietta Mood
Around - Thursday, January 08, 2004 at 04:58:10 (EST)
The events of Three Kings Day not withstanding, I've had an eventful and interesting time of it.
As the agents of the old-firm certainly seem to have gone on Holiday, I feel the need to insinuate myself into matters on a more personal level. Webster Weaver has been mysteriously diverted, and the Whirligig Clock is no closer to being in my possession... So I feel the need to take upon a mortal shell and have taken to earth in the sinful metropolis of the Nevada deserts. My mission begins here,
as the roulette wheels spin, and the endless flow of money twines in and out of the warm-breezed streets and neon glare... The first of my informants dwells here, and will be peeled most efficiently for all his mind possesses. Time is like taffy in this Vegas, and I use this to my advantage. The game begins anew.

By breath and blood I'll bend thy bones.

Mr. Krickett
The Realm of Flesh - Tuesday, January 06, 2004 at 18:20:16 (EST)
So...I've printed my tickets. Looking forward to taking the family to the House of Clocks, but can anybody tell me where I should catch the bus?
DFT <>
USA - Friday, December 19, 2003 at 08:48:06 (EST)
Buck, I am delighted to see that you are once again lucid, if probably not sane. Much as I regret the loss of Wally, he really was rather dim. At any rate, as your return to sensibility was my immediate goal, I shall be content to put off my eventual goal, leave you be for a time, and take the time to deal with this new situation.
And deal with it I shall, be assured.

Marie, the Timor is quite safe, as I took it with me when I went to the Temple. The items taken were quite small and easily pocketed, and while I am not yet decided upon whther or not I should believe your protestations of innocence, I am content to let the matter lie for now. As I said, they will most probably find their own way back to me, and when they have, it will be quite easy for me to determine where they'd been.

Captain, while it is unlikely in the extreme that OFT would be able to meet you, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from involving yourself with him.
This applies to the rest of my esteemed colleagues and rivals as well. You have no alliances nor enmities with this man, even if he is who and what he claims to be. Leave him to me, unless you would earn my wrath.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Wednesday, December 10, 2003 at 03:08:43 (EST)

As I am feeling much more myself, and much more solid and stable, I think I shall keep myself distant from your reaches for a while.

I must respond to the strange occurence of O. Tigler waking from a comma by saying that I would much rather have woken from a question mark or a semi-colon, as they leave you feeling much more refreshed.

Wally, by the way, was delicious. Some habits die hard I'm afraid.

Pensieve Oz AKK

On The Lamb - Sunday, December 07, 2003 at 10:40:48 (EST)
Marie all my rather tentative inquiries as to the whereabouts of the missing Wally and Buck have proved fruitless so far and I don’t hold out much hope that Wally will be found alive. I’m not sure how the portal worked and what affect it might have on horological entities and dare I say it but Professor Von Scabinet despite his failings may have the insight we need in this matter. Failing that Rev. Chasuble from his account may have encountered Buck in whatever form he now takes and I would be most interested in meeting him if a suitable time and place could be arranged.

After further reflection I have some concerns about the items you stated were missing from the house. You have only my word that it was indeed the Old Firm that removed them but I was hoping that the West Timor clock was not one of those items taken. As you may be aware they already have the East Timor clock (which alas I acquired for them) and with Mr. Torcs they would be able to determine the exact location of the North and South clocks if they still exist.

Mr. Tigler your appearance greatly troubles Marie and I must confess to being somewhat perturbed by your claims. As it may well turn out that somehow time has been distorted to the degree that you have arrived from elsewhere I would strongly advise that you do not enter the House of Clocks until your lineage has been confirmed as the results could be catastrophic. I hope that you did indeed keep your appointment with Capt. Hendley despite your protests you were unable to the matter can be resolved once and for all.

Henrietta Mood
Not telling - Saturday, December 06, 2003 at 13:37:02 (EST)
Perhaps I should have posted here last night, but such was my emotional distress at reading this new Mr. Tigler's post, and such was my need to verify that which I can verify of his story, that I did not feel I could.
The inscription on the back of that watch is "Auctoritate Tempus Potetur Frangere," By Will may Time be broken.
And, indeed, I believe that this is what my dear uncle Oscar managed before his, ahem, death.
Yes, Oscar Tigler is dead. My chatelaine watch, of which those on this board have heard somewhat, has passed Midnight, and so Uncle has passed on. It seems that he has found a way to break Death as well, however, since my chatelaine now shows one minute past midnight... a discrepancy from this new Tigler's watch that I can only believe has something to do with his insistence that the year is 2005. This, together with the domain name of Tigler's email address (NationalAreoNautics.Gov), leads me to believe that either my Uncle has managed to perpetrate a most remarkable hoax, or O. Frank Tigler is from what some ignorami have termed "alternate universes."
For the curious, my Uncle's middle initial was, indeed, F, and although I was never able to prove what it stood for, the name of the man who claimed paternity was Franklin Tigler.
I suppose that this could have come at a worse time for me, but at the moment, I fail to see how. Mr. Krickett, I may wish to engage your services, so kindly offered before, sometime soon. First, though, I wish to study the man who has my Uncle's watch.
I fear now for my daughter, whom I am unable to contact, and my previous efforts become more important...
Henrietta, Strutter has returned to me, but alone and dazed. He is still uncertain of what happened after he and Wally fled with Buck, but he has corroborated your story up to that point. Buck is now, it seems, on the loose. All of my colleagues here should be wary, as I now have reason to believe that he is dangerous.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Tuesday, December 02, 2003 at 23:37:50 (EST)
To my Dear Mr.s Ng and Hendley

I thank you both for your prompt replies which I admit to being more than I expected. Now to answer to the points raised by both.

Mr. Ng if the watch I now posess does happen to be your property I will of course be pleased to return it. But as it is a vauble antique I will have to have more eveidence that this is so besides just your word. And as for the key it is exactly where I left it in my safe. Though strangley enough the safe combination has changed. It now matches my birth day though in date save for the year which is grossly off.
The watch bares two inscriptions. The first is on the back of the watch. It and is "From Dearest Racheal / aquired with great pain" the second is in Latin and is on the back if you can Identify it I will take that as proof of ownership. As for dropping it off at this house of clocks I have to say that all of my reasearch cannot prove that such a place exists outside of this web page. I even consived that the phone book may not list the number and took a Holo tour of the area of Chicago and found no House of Clocks on the street in question. But I did find that a man in a Brotherhood of Meatworkers uniform tried to mug my Hologram. Well it takes all kinds.

And now Mr. Hendley on to your questions and comments. First your question. I did have a relitve by that name since you asked but alas she died along with the rest of my family at a family reunion at one of our cottages in the Confederacy. It was a tragic day roughly twenty years ago. The entire family save myself perished in the flames and I suffered an extensive comma following it. It was only through the dedication of our families long time Baristers from the Firm of Wrack and Grunderfield that I was kept on life support as long as I was. Alas I awoke from that comma with no memmory of my youth, though the dreams I had during it were vivid enough to count as a childhood. But Marie Elekra was the name of a neice. Youngest daughter of a much older brother. She was about my age when she died and according to friends of the family a she was as close as a sister to me.
I find it odd that you would ask that and feel I must demand you explain your self.

As for meeting you I have two comments. First you did not specify where or what date you would like to meet. For that reason alone I would have to say no. On matters of Space and Chronolgy I fear I am very exact. It is one of my pet peeves and has been since I woke from my comma. It is one of the reasons I find this watch so troublesome. Its ticks are perfect to the second it should be keeping excellent time.
The second reason I cannot meet you is that I am currently involved with senstive work for the govenment that will not allow for my absence. I can communicate but I cannot even reveal my city to you, Much less visit another.
And there is a third. To be frank Captain I am not sure I trust you.

Lastly before I go I have a word for your web mistress. Coding is a a detailed work and you have a lovly sight so I know you pay attention to details. Yet you have the auto date wrong on your guest book. It posts the dates as 2003 when every one knows it is 2005.

I do want to thank all of you again for yoru responces and if any more details can be provided to help me penitrate this chronlogical mystery I will be...

Thankfully yours

O. Franklin Tigler <O.Frank.Tig@NationalAreoNautics.Gov>
12/2/2005, CT UCAS - Tuesday, December 02, 2003 at 20:41:30 (EST)
This Message is for Mr. O. Franklin Tigler.

Dear Sir,
I would love to take up your case. It does at first glance seem to be a mundane little mystery but I have a suspicion that it might be connected with some other oddities that I have noted previously in my medical, psychological and chronological practices.

Although Mr. Ng may well be right, I do not think a simple explanation will be possible without a meticulous study of the watch, the key and the email (and your lineage: are you related to Marie Elektra Tigler?)

I would therefore recommend that you meet me, with the four items intact (key, watch, mail and lineage) at three minutes past twelve this coming Saturday in ‘The Rooster’s Last’.

For a large glass of Scotch and a few shillings I’m sure I can enlighten you further, but in an effort to be sporting to any of my competitors/colleagues in the psycho-chronological field, let me reveal to you and other readers of this message-board my suspicions that this might be connected with a mass anomaly in North London which may (or may not) be due to a small-but-stable black hole ten inches wide and two inches tall (a similar size to the letter slot on the average British Post Box!).

I once received an army-issue revolver in the post, four days before it was used to shoot dead a fellow, whom I owed a little money to. When the case came to court, the forensic boys were baffled, but in the end, had to agree that I was an innocent part of a cross-temporal phenomenon.

Thus I remain an innocent man, and alarmingly sober.

Be seeing you,

- Capt. S.S. Hendley

Capt. S.S. Hendley
The Old Country - Tuesday, December 02, 2003 at 16:18:55 (EST)
By the tonsils of the benevolent Buddha! I am short on time here and must forgo the niceties I usually couch all speech within.

Krickett - Congratulations on your choice of the Webster Weaver. I have been pushed to my limits recently to stay one step ahead. Poisons and mantraps and duels, oh my! My sword hand is as steady as ever, though strength must now give way to skill. I fear the Weaver nicked me in the last battle, fought in a San Francisco back alley, it was most strange - I felt the pain, I now lack an earlobe, but the cut is as healed as though it happened in the milk years of my youth.

Soon we will face each other, they and I, but on my terms, and where I choose. And then you and I will engage in the song of steel, Krickett.

Mr Franklin Tigler - Many honours to you. May the August Jade Personage smile upon you alone.

There are many rational explanations for the clock you recently received. It sounds, however, as though the most simple will fit the bill. It appears that my beloved Coralise pocket watch has again escaped from me during the recent excitement. Please ignore the key, as that has a tendency to journey where it will, it will likely not be where you left it any more (and by the hair of the celestial snow rabbit - do not be tempted to attach it to a chain round your neck for safekeeping!) If you could avoid storing it near any other timepieces, I should be happy to collect the pocket watch from you at your convenience. Perhaps you could leave notice at the House of Clocks reception?

Now with sorrow, I leave.

Kanshi Ng
Numb Within, - Tuesday, December 02, 2003 at 08:58:58 (EST)

They - THEY came in the night, and poisoned my eyes; they must have, for when i awoke, and looked around, nothing was familiar; why even my hands were claws... and so my seconds, my minutes, my hours - my days and nights of unending torment began - a dead soul.
It is here; here at the ragged edge of love that this ministry of fear began, and it is here i hope to end it. They pound us night and day and night hoping to break us. Night becomes day becomes night - only Waukesha's distant factory-sirens signal the passage of the hours. Many times i thought myself crushed... but.. OH no.... they come; they are close.... must stop now... must hide.. more later.......

I sit here, and rot. I rot from the loneliness, from the pain. My Wolf - Where are you? I have waited for a long time - time beyond measurement even by infernal clocks - and you are still not here. Your soft whispers still burn in my ear; I still feel the soft touch of your lips. In the past, I have gone without food, and water... but love....? Love is what i need now. I need it to carry me through this horological hell.

I need the strength of your love to move my muscles... for i have no will of my own now... without your love I am lost. But they - THEY will not get that which I possess.

Revd. Septimus Chasuble.
USA - Tuesday, December 02, 2003 at 08:32:30 (EST)
Please excuse me for posting. I usually wouldn't bother with such a flim-flamery but my life has been so stange latly as to push me to taking strange directions.

I was told that if I posted here asking for answers I would recieve them. So strange as it seem here I am.

Can any one hear inform me about a antique pocket watch I recieved by post. Its hands read three min past twelve and don't seem to move. But when I removed the backwith a small key I recieved a few days prior, more on this in a moment, all the gears are turning and every thing seems to be running correctly. It is most strange.

I considered finding a buyer and selling the watch as it is obvously an antique and would be of some value but even as I considered this an e-mail arived in my in-box warning me away from such an action.

Now the one strange thing about the e-mail I recieved was its date. 4-12-05. Fouth day of the twelveth month of the year 2005. Which I figured must have been a mistake or prank as I was checking my mail on the twenty-ninth day of the eleventh month. That day will not be here for several days yet.

This was strnage enough that I checked the post date on the watch and the key. The watch which arived second was mailed on Nov. 6 and arived Nov. 12th. The key that arrived first was mailed on Nov. 14th and arived on Nov. the tenth.

I now if other events were not plaguing my life I would write this off as an elaborite prank but there does seem to be more to it than that so I follow the advice of the e-mail I recieved yesterday and write to your Guestbook today.

I welcome any rational explination.

Thank you.

I must admit to finding these occurances to be strange to say the least and when cuppled

O. Franklin Tigler <O.Frank.Tig@NationalAerionautics.Gov>
UCAS - Monday, December 01, 2003 at 23:35:44 (EST)
Marie I understand why you came to the conclusions that you did given previous accusations but things are not as they seem.

Unfortunately it seems as if the Old Firm must have finished their business with Mr. Krickett and the information I foolishly revealed about my protective spell was enough for them to find a way to break through the barrier. I was downstairs with Buck when they broke into the house and was therefore unable to stop them. However, I was able to convince two of your servants Strutter and Wally to leave with him through one of your ingenious portals and they should make contact soon if they haven’t already.

As for Mr. Torcs they seemed to know exactly which room he was staying in and was removed without much sign of a struggle. The more I think about events the more I begin to wonder if they came for him rather than Buck or myself. The hints he mentioned previously to the information he had could have proved very useful if cured of his affliction and I fear for his safety in the Old Firms hands.

I regret that I will no longer be able to assist in caring for Buck, as currently I’m likely to be a liability until I find another method of safeguarding myself from further attacks.

Henrietta Mood
In hiding - Monday, December 01, 2003 at 05:05:34 (EST)
Apparently, both I and my note here arrived too late. Henrietta seems to have lost patience with Mr. Torcs, and broken down the door to his room. I believe than she then took him to the room in which Buck was being monitored. All three, along with my remaining servants, are currently missing. Also missing are a number of small valuables... Yes, Kanshi, I was warned. But I shall soon have them back, if past experience is any good guide.
Henrietta, if either of them have been damaged by whatever it is you have done, you may expect retribution.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Friday, November 28, 2003 at 23:38:23 (EST)
Henrietta, I am, slowly, making my way back. The rituals were quite tiring, and normally I would rest at the Temple for several days, but I must return to continue my work. To add to my distress, my Sisters are still highly displeased with me, although I have defended my actions well enough that I am in no danger of losing my post.
Your news of Mr. Torcs and Buck lends credence to my theory and bolsters my hopes. If the Triad are with us, soon we shall have results.

Expect me after nightfall.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Wednesday, November 26, 2003 at 01:57:21 (EST)
Well Mr. Torcs arrived several days ago but I’ve been unable to make much progress in helping him with his affliction. Speaking to him for any length of time leaves me with a pounding headache and an inability to tell whether I’m coming or going and it appears that much of my research into Mordecai Mulroney isn’t applicable in this case.

Interestingly when I took him to visit Buck yesterday and when he entered the room Buck opened his eyes for a few seconds. While I can’t swear to it I got the impression they recognised each other. Unfortunately Selden has remained locked in his room since this so I’ve been unable to question him about what happened.

Marie the house remains undamaged and I’ve been doing what I can to repair the damage in my room, though I’m unsure of what Selden has been doing in his room. After his meeting with Buck I’ve heard the odd groan and the occasional thump as if something heavy had landed from a great height coming from his room. I hope that you are due to return shortly as if he doesn’t come out soon I may have to force entry to the room to ensure that he’s alright.

Henrietta Mood
France - Tuesday, November 25, 2003 at 07:23:07 (EST)
I regret that I had to leave my house so precipitously, but my other duties called. I am very glad that Ms. Mood has recovered sufficiently to deal with Buck, as I cannot at this time.
Mr. Krickett, I must decline your gracious offer with thanks, as the situation is now resolved.
Henrietta, you have the use of the house until I return. Please attempt not to lose the remaining servants, if you would so kind. And try not to damage the house itself. I've already lost one this moon.
Kanshi, I'm sure you have already left my Irish house, but if you haven't, do reengage the lock (not nearly as disturbing as disengaging it {about which I'm sorry, as I meant to say at the time, but I hadn't realized it would affect you so}) and return the key to my agent. I will want to look over the ruins myself, as well as find the Cluricaune a new home if he waits that long.
Selden, if you will wait at the house in France, where Henrietta is, I will return to work with you in about a week.
And now I must go on with my ritual preparations. The Changer of All calls.

From the Threshold of Now and Then,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Thursday, November 20, 2003 at 03:36:17 (EST)
Well I’m feeling much better now and the latest potion seems to have worked where the others failed. Unfortunately the brief periods of lucidity made it hard to concentrate on any one matter.

Marie I most humbly apologise for recent events and I hope that you’ll be able to replace the servants without too much difficulty. The damage to the room I stay in is quite extensive I’m afraid to say and you’ll also find quite a few items missing from your inventory that I needed to use to refine the potion. I am therefore willing to give you the West Timor clock for your collection and feel that another look at the translation is no longer necessary.

I managed to stabilise Buck’s form but alas my own project perished as I tended to it. Buck still seemingly remains in some sort of a deep sleep or coma vbut there is definitely brain activity as he tosses and turns and mutters “Pensieve Oz AKK” almost constantly.

If you need to leave for the temple I am sufficiently recovered to watch Buck by myself and while I can’t guarantee there won’t be a relapse I’m confident that the unfortunate events are now behind me. Otherwise I’m happy to arrange for transportation back to my lab but I understand if you’d prefer to have Buck close by.

Mr Krickett while your offer to Marie to take care of me was gracious I’m no longer in need of any assistance and if you had plans to collect the bounty that the Old Firm has placed on my scalp I would advise you to abandon them.

Mr. Walker recent events have left me on edge and I welcome a visit from you or one of your associates as a chance to work out some of the built up aggression if you manage to find a way to overcome the crushed poppy. I wonder what colour your internal organs are?

Henrietta Mood
The Lab - Tuesday, November 18, 2003 at 21:01:58 (EST)
Well I’m feeling much better now and the latest potion seems to have worked where the others failed. Unfortunately the brief periods of lucidity made it hard to concentrate on any one matter.

Marie I most humbly apologise for recent events and I hope that you’ll be able to replace the servants without too much difficulty. The damage to the room I stay in is quite extensive I’m afraid to say and you’ll also find quite a few items missing from your inventory that I needed to use to refine the potion. I am therefore willing to give you the West Timor clock for your collection and feel that another look at the translation is no longer necessary.

I managed to stabilise Buck’s form but alas my own project perished as I tended to it. Buck still seemingly remains in some sort of a deep sleep or coma but there is definitely brain activity as he tosses and turns and mutters “Pensieve Oz AKK” almost constantly.

If you need to leave for the temple I am sufficiently recovered to watch Buck by myself and while I can’t guarantee there won’t be a relapse I’m confident that the unfortunate events are now behind me. Otherwise I’m happy to arrange for transportation back to my lab but I understand if you’d prefer to have Buck close by.

Mr Krickett while your offer to Marie to take care of me was gracious I’m no longer in need of any assistance and if you had plans to collect the bounty that the Old Firm has placed on my scalp I would advise you to abandon them.

Mr. Walker recent events have left me on edge and I welcome a visit from you or one of your associates as a chance to work out some of the built up aggression if you manage to find a way to overcome the crushed poppy. I wonder what colour your internal organs are?

Henrietta Mood
The Lab - Tuesday, November 18, 2003 at 21:01:51 (EST)
Unlike Wrack, not one for small talk. Make this brief. Krickett, all is well. Work proceeds apace. All expenditures necessary and explained in full on completion of contract. Mood, I spent last night sharpening my special needles and thinking about you. Must be off now. Wrack is bellowing about some sort of transdimensional disturbance or other. Pleasant dreams.

H. Walker, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
Somewhere Unpleasant, - Tuesday, November 18, 2003 at 13:20:58 (EST)

I confess some confusion as to your implications concerning my identity.

I have never been a little boy.

But his behavior seems to suggest some connection with me indeed. I am sure he is one of mine somehow. I wonder what he has grown up to be? I would be very interested in meeting him. Perhaps employing him.

The collective known as Webster Weaver is also very interested in making your acquaintance. He is ancient and mindless (making him easy to control), and legion in his current massing. He is hungry.

Is it true that the (literal) blood of the first Buddha runs through your veins? Or is this theological fiction?

On a lighter note: It seems the good Professor Von Scabinet finally caught on to a bit of foul play and leapt from the limousine delivering him into my clutches. I was forced to... lay off Wasp and Dung. They were no longer useful to my organization. I would be most grateful if someone would return the wayward Chadwick to me.

I am still awaiting update from the Old Firm.

I Prey Upon the Blindess of Strangers
--Mr. Krickett

Mr. Krickett
A State All My Own - Monday, November 17, 2003 at 22:43:56 (EST)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

Krickett? This most dishonourable one begs pardon, however there is no Krickett of my acquaintance.

Aieee, no! Were I only ninety again my brain would be more than rice gruel. When Nights Brothers wrapped their cloak around me, and I held the knowledge of their more unusual tools, I remember a little boy in the compound, a thoroughly nasty child whose greatest delight was to maim insects, and pit them one against the other.

I was never involved in the training for Nights Brothers, so I know not became of you after that night you attempted to raid the clockhouse of my care. Another enemy brings me little to fear in my advancing years, though now I begin to wonder at a number of those attempts upon my life. Do I again hear a child learning to count with flies legs? Perhaps it is time the great Wheel of Transmigrations should turn again. I shall enjoy counting with you.

Marie. The damage is extensive, and the Griffiths piece certainly beyond repair. My feeling is that the same sympathy that caused Cudgel's Beamish Compressor to become self powering, was in the process of generation, and the Rite added too much Yang energy in an instant. I would stay for further examination, but time and tides conspire against me, and the rain of this cursed country makes my bones ache.

Selden: We shall meet as arranged before, I trust.

I must prepare to travel now. The excitement courses in me at the thought of meeting the infamous Webster Weaver, my swords are sharp as ever, and experience will ever defeat youth.

In time.

Kanshi Ng
Outside time, - Monday, November 17, 2003 at 13:55:50 (EST)

We helped, we are helping, we will help each other. But you have to tell me, how did I make it stop counting, how do I make it stop counting, how can I make it stop counting?

It hurt me, it hurts me, it will hurt me so much.

Selden Torcs
Boston, USA - Monday, November 17, 2003 at 10:20:52 (EST)
Marie, my sweet songbird,

You have but to ask, and my services are yours for the taking. I can help those under your care in a most permanent and... ethically satisfactory way, and for only a most nominal fee. This is not a joke, nor is it a tease, trick, or trap.

You know my price. You needn't pay it personally, as long as I am payed. Contact me here.

Caveat Emptor.

While I was Walking Up the Stair, I met a Man Who Wasn't There. I Met Him There Again Today...

I strangled him and walked away.

--Mr. Krickett

Mr. Krickett
The Ether - Sunday, November 16, 2003 at 23:44:06 (EST)
It seems my voice is not what it once was, in those long-ago days when I was a professional opera singer. (And how many of you knew that? That was how I first met O'Reed face to face, though he didn't know then that I was myself.) I managed to get all the way through the Carmina, but I shall be very hoarse for some days yet. Fortunately, we have a means communicating here which does not require speech.
The two time-beings have been separated, and I am attempting to give them each a stable body again, but this is not really my field. I am afraid that I will be forced to resort to some drastic measure.
Henrietta is not much help, as she is only in a useful form for a couple of hours at a time, and the rest of the day she must be sequested. Several of my servants have fled in fear of her.
To make matters worse, my recent preoccupation in these matters have caused me to neglect my duties to the Sisterhood. In this next week, I MUST leave here to go to the Temple. The high point of our ritual year fast approaches, and I have already shirked too many observances this month. I can afford to anger neither my Sisters nor the Changer we serve.
Despite all of these problems, I have given much thought to the matter in which I am involved. It has occurred to me that perhaps there is one other here who could be of use in this, as I could be of use to him. Selden Torcs, might we help each other?

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Sunday, November 16, 2003 at 21:51:55 (EST)
I still believe Buck’s weakened state was caused by Von Scabinet as the ingestion of the item should have returned him to a more recognisable version of his former self at least. However, it appears when Randall was dispatched by Buck he was then able to ingest the item. Unfortunately I had no reason to suspect this when I performed the summoning and likely why his physical appearance was so deformed when he arrived.

The Rite should have never been performed on the combined entity. On further reflection I think that this is the reason why the reaction was so much more energetic than it should have been and the affects are more widespread than originally calculated. I think we’ll all find that when we return to wherever we store our artefacts the larger pieces will have suffered a similar fate to the Griffiths piece as they are more susceptible to such a resonance shockwave.

Marie I gratefully accept your offer to perform the Carmina Necessariae Evulsionis as I fear that in my current state any attempt to perform it will lead to another fit of howling. It appears the Rite had a more pronounced affect on me than I first thought and not even my normal potion is able to leave me lucid more than several hours at a time. I know the house you refer to (though I would be more inclined to call it a Chateau) and will await your transportation while continuing to tend to Buck who has yet to regain consciousness.

Interestingly one of my assistants found a body on the boundary of the area the protective spell I performed covers. They were wearing a hazmat suit in what I would assume to be an attempt to protect themselves from the crushed poppy – as if such man made measures could defeat the mystical methods employed. I must admit that the suit impressed me though as not one drop of blood had escaped and it made the disposal and clean up so much easier. I should warn the Old Firm that a similar spell has also been cast that will protect me and those who are within it when I journey to Marie’s house so it would be foolish to attempt anything further.

Henrietta Mood
Very busy - Saturday, November 15, 2003 at 07:40:35 (EST)
Hecate's tears and Janus' four lips! Blast and damn, I LIKED that house!
Kanshi, it is unlikely to be your fault (although, of course, if it is, you and I shall have words). How bad is the structural damage to the house itself? That timepiece was itself a load-bearing support. Figuring out what happened is more important than the house itself, but I should like to know how much will be salvageable.
Assuming that the seizure was caused by the Rite, it is interesting to note that either the effect took some time to travel or there was a time-ripple effect. Given the interval of delay, I favor the latter theory. Hmmm. This will require much study. You will, of course, relay to me your findings?

Henrietta, it is entirely possible that Buck devoured your own creation early on. Indeed, this may be the cause of his peculiarities (rather than the Professor's methods being the cause, as we had all assumed). Perhaps performing the Carmina Necessariae Evulsionis to remove your creation's essence from Buck's corporeality would help. If your singing voice is not up to this demanding spell, I will probably be capable of performing it in roughly twenty-four hours, but we will have to find another place than the one in which I left you. I have a house not too terribly far from there, and would be happy to provide you with transportation.
I believe you begin to understand why I wish to have the supposition most of us hold confirmed, and Buck made stable.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Saturday, November 15, 2003 at 01:45:42 (EST)
I am pleased to see that Dung and Wasp found the good professor... he wends his way onward to me. He shall make himself very useful to me. How is Mr O-- err... Buck? Has his mental acuity begun to return to him with the partial completion of the Rite? He is a rather vital member of our little community, and it would be nice to see him again. To reminisce.

Kanshi Ng, strangely, your presence has been rather muted to my senses as of late. I have not forgotten your trespasses against me in the past, and you shall be found. When the Whirligig Clock is located and returned to me, there shall be no place on the face of this one tiny world that you will be able to find. I have dispatched Webster Weaver, my most fervent of assasins, to find and dispatch you.

To the members of the Old Firm: I expect a status report soon, and an explaination of some of the rather obscure charges made to your Black Card: A Velorian Brothel in Centauri Seven?

I fail to see the relevance.

Captain Hendley, you have grown too quiet. Perhaps you fear to poke your little turtle's head out of its protective shell? We have a history, you and I.

Mr. Krickett
Incorporeality, USA - Friday, November 14, 2003 at 19:34:36 (EST)

I do fear that my last few postings may have lost their cohesion as I was lost for a good time in a temporal vortex in the middle of Colorado.
A fascinating natural occurence, much like a black hole, a temporal vortex behaves much in the same way that those cosmic mysteries of quantum mechanics do, except that they are created by the extreme weight of time flow concentrated in one locale to such an extent that it actually collapses in on itself, and begins to drag all chronology into itself. Along with said chronology, all matter (or rather, the stasis of said matter) and perception is caught and drawn in as well. Subtle, and beautiful, and dangerous in a most exotic and exciting way, really. But I was nearly lost completely.
I was rescued at the very last moment by a woman in a red leather trenchcoat, and a squat man in a black tuxedo. Neither of them seem as if they are able to speak, and I have not lain eyes upon them again since they deposited me in the back or a rather large, luxurious, and more than comfortable limousine. I have not been able to thank my strange benefactors for their assistance, but I am content to sip champaigne and wrap in this luxurious bathrobe until we reach our destination.
This computer terminal (my own portable device was rendered inert by the vortex)and EVERYTHING else in this limo is marked with a peculiar logo: that of a cricket with a leering skull in the place of its head. I do wonder what that means...

I have not had the time yet to scan this message board in my haste to update you all on my status that I am not up on the current events. Have I missed anything of import? Has Buck yet turned up?

Why does my mouth taste of Dupont?

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet
The Back of a Comfortable Limo - Friday, November 14, 2003 at 19:24:04 (EST)
I clasp my hands together and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

Time is short, and the Tao of my path is decided. The Cluricane and I are guided by necessity rather than choice, and time moves on.

Marie - how intriguing. At precisely 2.47am, the Griffiths piece your house is based around siezed...traumatically. It appears that it someow melted, and now resembles nothing so much as the The Great Manchester Lump. I'll let you know more when we get out.

Mood - Alas. I left it with Randall ... which can only mean Buck has it.

Buck - I bow deep in obeisance. You ever suprise me. Life would be quite dull without one of you around.

With most humble apologies, I must withdraw. Griffiths could mill steel like no other, and this door is as solid as they come.

Kanshi Ng
Marking time, - Friday, November 14, 2003 at 12:19:21 (EST)
Marie I thank you for your co-operation in the Rite and I apologize for the unexpected events that occurred. It appears the Rite was sufficiently draining which when coupled with my already fatigued state then caused me to partially change despite the fact that the full moon is not for several weeks. I’m very glad that you were not harmed and regret I was unable to contain my more primal instincts.

I look forward to viewing the translation again and if it’s either the North or South Timor Clock that you have seen I would be most interested in examining it to see how it differs from the others.

The Rite of Clepsydra was designed to combine time, machine and flesh into one organic entity which would in turn have the power to control any clock and when sufficiently developed, time itself. I was originally going to use the entity I created while I worked in Kanshi’s lab but it was stolen from me and I couldn’t be certain that it had survived his care so I was forced to look for another horological entity.

Unfortunately Von Scabinet’s accelerated experiment meant that Buck was in a far greater state of temporal flux than I would have liked but he was my only other option and after Randall’s failed attempt at his capture I was forced to take a more drastic course of action. Unfortunately the summoning didn’t quite work as I planned and I’m not sure if the Rite will be enough to sustain him after the trauma of the transformation.

My time is now currently dedicated to trying to maintain his current form but I don’t know how long my supply of Hemlock will last. Kanshi if my property still lives please bring it as soon as you can, as I believe it may now be the only way to reverse the changes happening to Buck and preserve both of our work.

Henrietta Mood
The Dungeon - Friday, November 14, 2003 at 10:39:33 (EST)
Well! That WAS an interesting twenty-four hours. The Rite was completed, although not without... interruption.
The results of the Rite I shall leave to Ms. Mood to detail, as is her right as the enactor.
Buck's current appearance is... most disturbing. I believe that one of Ms. Mood's operatives was able to confine him, although I do not know for how long that will last. Kanshi, you may wish to hurry there.
Henrietta, events did not permit the second part of the transaction to take place. I left with the translation, and you still have the rather pretty West Timor (and, now that I have seen it, I realize that at least one of the other three has NOT been destroyed). I would be pleased to permit you that hour at a later time.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Friday, November 14, 2003 at 02:23:18 (EST)
The dwarfses was very tasty. Parts too little to uses for my body though. Thanks yous very much anywayses.

I'm gettings squishy and crunchy at the same times... makes it easy to travel in the sewers pipes.

Being seeings you soons Moody Moody. All Rite?

Lots of Places - Thursday, November 13, 2003 at 18:50:57 (EST)
Henrietta, I am en route, and will arrive around dawn...
Marie Elektra Tigler
- Thursday, November 13, 2003 at 02:04:16 (EST)
Mr. Krickett while I am not surprised that you decided to employ the Old Firm I was reassured by the fact that not only have you had prior business with them and know what you’re letting yourself in for but also that you decided to hire a few other agents in case they’re needed.

I feel that I owe you and the community as a whole an apology for the error in my last message. It appears that the continuous checking and rechecking of the preliminary stages of the Rite have left me not quite myself and led to the slip of the hand that implied Madame and Monsieur D'Eon were not one and the same. I have not read "On Crossing Boundaries of Gender and Time" but of course know it by reputation and meant no disrespect by the error.

Misters Walker and Wrack I am greatly amused that you still intend to continue your efforts to exact your grievances. I would have thought that by now you recognised the value I place in knowing any prospective employer in minute detail. As Kanshi noted what seems so long ago the seed of the poppy when crushed between a clocks gears is an ample deterrent. Much as Kanshi and I had our disagreements he was an excellent teacher with several lifetimes of dealing with companies like yours and his advice as always is invaluable. The Business Cards were just a small part of the insurance policy put in place before I even contacted you and when coupled with the information in the Book of Maligo creates a barrier if crossed releases the crushed poppy seed into the air. While in its ordinary form it is merely a nuisance if inhaled or ingested will lead to a rather nasty case of gut rot to you or your agents.

Marie the preliminary preparations are complete and I believe that there is enough time to me to recuperate so that most of my sense return to me. However, I shall still be more than capable of performing the Rite when the time comes and I await your arrival so I may continue with the more complex tasks still ahead.

My assistant Randall gains ever closer to the elusive Buck and I am becoming more confident that he will be restrained when the Rite is performed. More puzzling is the strangely mutilated cows that Randall keeps encountering in his pursuit I’m not sure if they’re meant as a warning or an attempt at some sort of message.

Henrietta Mood
So much to do... - Wednesday, November 12, 2003 at 15:20:19 (EST)
Walker and Wrack, Wrack and Walker, Wrack and Ruin, Wrack and Weasel and Ruin, Pop goes the Weasel.

Simon Wrack worried, worries, should worry about what I knew, know, know. I knew, I know, I know your real name Simon Wrack. I knew, I know, I know your mother, she was, is, will be well, Simon Wrack. And she thought, thinks, will think about you all the time. She was, is, will be just where you left, are leaving, will leave her.

Hieronymous Walker, you needed, need, will need to help me, or I'll tell them all. I know you were, are, will be sorry about it. I helped, am helping, will help you to forget it, if you helped, help, will help me.

How did I make it stop counting, how do I make it stop counting, how can I make it stop counting?

Selden Torcs
Boston, USA - Wednesday, November 12, 2003 at 12:20:23 (EST)
Mr. Krickett,

We have met with your associates (and a more charming pair of servitors we have never met) and received the card of which you spoke. We must admit that we are impressed by your resources. They are formidable, and that is not a word we use lightly. While we appreciate your wisdom in taking out some insurance on our cooperation in regards to hiring other agents, rest assured that our commission shall be completed quickly, quietly and to your utmost satisfaction.

And after that, Ms. Mood, you will have our full and undivided attention. But for now, we remain

Lethally Yours,

Simon Wrack and Hieronymous Walker, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
On the job, - Wednesday, November 12, 2003 at 10:36:29 (EST)
Ah, so the esteemed Mr. Krickett deigns to notice me, does he?
I'm afraid my schedule is a little full at the moment, as I'm sure you can understand. I am even now preparing for the journey to meet Ms. Mood. Perhaps when this current business is over I will permit you to buy me dinner in Stockholm.

Henrietta, you must excuse Kickett's correction. He is something of a scholar of the Chevalier d'Eon. I still keep a copy of his monograph "On Crossing Boundaries of Gender and Time" in the study of my home. Very insightful. Few scholar outside our little circle of horologists are aware of the Chavlier's deep and abiding interest in temporal mechanics. Perhaps if more of them were, they would better understand some of the mysteries surrounding that fine spy.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Tuesday, November 11, 2003 at 23:24:32 (EST)
Simon and Hieronymous,
I thank you for your prompt response to my posting. I am sure that if you check your records, you will see that I have had previous dealings with your firm, although I dealt primarily with two gentlemen who are at this time missing in action. The transactions were always to my satisfaction, and always well worth the particular price.
I myself am not physically manifested in Manhattan at this time, but my servants Tick and Carapace would be more than happy to rendevouz with you there and pass along all of the information I have at my... fingertips. Please do not try to engage them in dialogue, as they are incapable of human speech. Along with my instructions, you shall find a Black-Card, capable of paying for all your expenses while working for me. You will find that it gives a certain calibre of access that even you and your esteemed colleagues do not regularly enjoy. The card will of course expire upon services rendered, or upon your betraying me.

To be safe, I am also looking into the hiring of other agents, who will only need to be called into play should you fail or doublecross.

To the lovely Marie Tigler, I tip my hat and smile. I am one acquainted with your ancestry. The Tiglers have long been an amusement to me, with their intrigues, masquerades, and power games. I would be most interested in making your formal acquaintance. I believe I have much to offer you, and much to learn from you. You and I have a great deal of similar interest.

And... may I smilingly remind the young upstart, Henrietta Mood, that Madame and Monsieur D'Eon were in fact one and the same.

I Cross My T's and Damn Your I's,
Mr. Krickett

Mr. Krickett
In Transition - Tuesday, November 11, 2003 at 17:50:09 (EST)
Marie you were correct in your assumption that it’s Madame D'eon's copy of the Rite that I currently possess. I acquired it from a blind three-fingered beggar who found it in the sewers after the house disappeared under mysterious circumstances several years ago.

As you have expressed some interest in the clock I feel I must warn you that the related clocks from North and South Timor are missing presumed destroyed in the rebellion of the underprivileged housekeepers some 73 years previously.

My original thought was that the Old Firm wanted the East Timor Clock due to somehow obtaining the other three (north, south and west) and wanted to combine them - the resulting clock has the ability to control time at any and would be a formidable weapon in the wrong hands. I therefore took the opportunity to acquire the West Timor clock when I found it during my travels as a precautionary measure but found later that the other clocks were destroyed.

I do indeed know the appropriate time for the Rite and shall be expecting your arrival before its start and can assure you that all unnecessary personnel will have left long before then to ensure they reach the minimum safe distance.

Kanshi I’m glad to hear that you were able to convince Randall to continue the hunt for Buck in your absence. He may look a little peculiar and definitely leaves a rather unpleasant smell but has his uses though admittedly most of them involve carrying heavy objects or violence of some description. I’ve also found in the past he’s an excellent cook as long as you’re not fussy what’s being served.

He’s already been in contact since he began the pursuit and is currently following a trail of cookie crumbs he found leading away from a quaint little cottage he regrettably had to destroy due to the nasty mess he found inside. I can only hope he can capture and restrain Buck before the Rite begins.

Henrietta Mood
The Mountains - Monday, November 10, 2003 at 12:48:47 (EST)
I clasp my hands together and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

Ms Tigler, may the August Jade Personage himself rain down blessings upon you. Your offer of time and solitude to study the masterly work of Cudgel Griffiths is greatly appreciated. I met with your agent some hours ago, a curious, if convivial, type, he seemed most disturbed at my lack of luggage - more so when I informed him that I carry all I own. Nonetheless - I am now comfortably ensconced within, following an awful experience with the "key." (And let me add that, had I known what the "key" consisted of, I may have thought longer before journeying here.)

Most recently, I have found a particular fascination with these inorganic clocks, and the peculiar sympathy, or in extreme cases, sentience that can evolve. The Wailing clocks of Nepal first aroused my curiosity with their shared bond, and their precognitive aspect. Then I learnt of Cudgels Beamish Compressor - a five ton work, that no longer requires the boiler to be stoked. It appears that two centuries of powered work has caused the boiler functions to become vestigial, and the beast now functions by rote. Perhaps the measuring of time effects the material, time changes all, why should the measurers of time be unaffected?

Ms Mood. I humbly thank you for your collected works on the temporally dislocated. I am sure that the case study of Mordecai Mulroney will be of use when I meet with Selden Torcs, though I fear his case is more extreme than the late (?) Mulroney ever was. With this offer from Ms Tigler, I have been forced to leave off my pursuit of Buck, though I was able to convince that tattooed dwarf you sent as a courier to maintain the pursuit. I trust this will not adversely effect any other duties you may have for a creature such as that.

I shall away - time ever passes, and there is work to be done.

Kanshi Ng
In Time, - Monday, November 10, 2003 at 07:53:05 (EST)
I normally detests the taking of life... but I needs the parts. No one ever visits the elderly anyway, it shall take weeks to discover. She did have good cookies though.

I will preserve them all...

(Now why does that sound so familiar to me?
Its comings backs sometimes.)

...for future use. Next time, they needs to be fresherer.

Time is ticking down

Your Neighborhood, Anywhere - Sunday, November 09, 2003 at 22:52:51 (EST)
Henrietta, your proposed site is quite suitable, and your original copy of the Rite is, of course, your own. I have no need of it, as I have my own copy, which I will bring along so that we can compare the two, just to be certain. (Out of curiosity, it was Monsieur or Madame D'eon's copy you stole, was it not? I believe the third extant copy is still in the hands of Capt. Hendley.)
I shall consider your offer for that extra hour. Please bring the Four Handed Clock so that I may examine it, to determine whether or not I might want it.
I should arrive at your site twelve hours before the Rite is due to begin. I believe you know the appropriate time?

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Sunday, November 09, 2003 at 01:20:29 (EST)
Marie I accept your terms and you should already have half of the items with a complete inventory list in your possession. I believe I have located an appropriate location for performing the rite itself and I’ll think you’ll find that it’s remote enough that the affect of what it rumoured to be an energetic reaction will be sufficiently dispersed. I will of course require that the original text remains with me in case I later find the time to devote myself fully to its translation but if I may be permitted an extra hour with the translation afterwards I am willing to provide you with the Four Handed Clock of West Timor the pair of which currently belongs to The Old Firm.

Kanshi I hope that my research arrived intact and will be of some help in dealing with Selden Torcs. You may have noticed that my assistant also brought a rather strangely shaped cage, three pounds of fine Scottish Beef and a gallon canister of twice refined oil to aid you in the capture of Buck. I’m sure he’d be wary of my offer and advise you not to accept but if the rumoured affects of the Rite of Clepsydra are true then I believe it best if Horological entities like Buck are suitably restrained for both our and their protection.

Misters Walker and Wrack I have to admit I’m surprised it took you this long to notice the items were missing given your fearsome reputation. While Kanshi’s claims of Kleptomania are false I do have an eye for future business opportunities especially since my employment was about to come to a rather abrupt halt in the near future. As for the severance package I anticipated this move, which is why I also acquired some of your ingenious business cards that had yet been sent to anyone. I think the reverse engineering carried out on the cards should ensure my safety for quite a period of time while an alternative is devised.

Mr. Krickett I would in normal circumstances be delighted to offer my services for a endeavour such as yours but unfortunately my attention is currently totally devoted to my own project. However, if you are willing to wait until its completion I would be happy to turn my resources to determining the location of the clock. I know that The Old Firm have already made an offer but I think you’ll find (as I nearly did to my cost) the fees they charge are exorbitant and on occasion it’s been known for a firstborn to be slipped into the fine print.

I believe that’s all for now,

Henrietta Mood
The Mountains - Saturday, November 08, 2003 at 10:18:36 (EST)
Kanshi, it seems that at last I can be of some help to you. I have a Griffiths piece, as it happens. My Connemara house is built around (and sometimes through) it, a most intriguing and lovely piece of brass and copper and walnut. It was to have been the first piece of a new period in his career, as he had fallen under the influence of the poet Yeats and the so-called Celtic Twilight. Tragically, he died shortly after this piece was completed. My agent on the Green Isle will be instructed to loan you the key (yes, I know, but it is a key in more ways than one, so do take it), and you will have the house to yourself for as long as you need it. Feel free to make use of anything which is not actually in the temple itself. You, of all our colleagues, I think I can trust to repay this favor when the time is right.
Oh, and if you wish to partake of spiritous refreshments, remember to share with the Cluricaune, or he'll get cranky, and perhaps convince those who stoke the boilers to strike. Hmmm, on second thought, you ought to bring him something anyway. It's been a while. Guiness or whiskey are, of course, best, but if you happen to have something more... exotic... I'm sure he'll find it quite acceptible.

Good luck.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Saturday, November 08, 2003 at 02:45:49 (EST)
I am hallucinating.
Dupont was tasty.
I am in the desert,
waiting for the bus.
Einstein was right,
pants are itchy.
The earth is keeping time.
You can hear her winding down.
The cosmos are clock work,
and they are winding down.
My heartbeat is on a pendulum,
and it... is winding down.
I am waiting for the bus,
by the buffalo's bloated corpse...
I'm sure it stopped here while I slept.
I am still waiting.
I am taking notes.
I am working on my next invention.
It weill change everything
science will prevail.
The fungus tasted salty.
I am still thirsty.

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
State: Confusion - Friday, November 07, 2003 at 19:20:42 (EST)
Greetings all,

Unfortunately, we must make haste. Certain matters require our immediate attention. To wit:

Ms. Mood: We must say that we're rather disappointed with your performance and behavior during your brief employment here, and Mr. Walker does not take well to disappointment. Expect us to be in touch about your severance package rather soon.

Mr. Krickett - We would be delighted to take up your contract, and indeed are wending our way to Manhattan at this very moment. We are aware of the means by which you prefer to communicate, and rest assured that a suitable set of entrails will be prepared.

That is all. Have a lovely day.

We remain,

Simon Wrack and Hieronymous Walker, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
In transit, - Friday, November 07, 2003 at 14:44:29 (EST)
Sands have fallen, sands are falling, sands will fall. All has past, is passing will pass.

The voices never stopped, are not stopping will not stop. Made them stop! Making them stop! Make them stop!

Kanshi Ng we met, we are meeting, we will meet on the close of the moon, where the rain will not go, above the stones.

Told me, telling me, tell me how to stop the clock? In the nightdark it would glow, it glows, it will glow, and in the light of the sun all around it became dark, becomes dark, will become dark. I tried, am trying, will try to destroy it, but the voices only shouted at me, are shouting, will shout when I thought, think, think about it.

Preserved me. Preserving me. Preserve me.

Selden Torcs
Boston, USA - Friday, November 07, 2003 at 13:13:57 (EST)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

One thousand wailing woes descend upon me. For once I believed I had the solution stabilized - true, the creation was not mine, but that fool Von Scabinet was so malleable as to be little more than an extra arm, but sorrow, sorrow, sorrow! The most recent incarnation of my work has begun to fall apart to counter this problem.

Buck's half formed mind has evidently been confused with the memories of the, ah..., proteins he ingested during his growth, and in evidence from his most recent message, no longer recognizes himself. Ten thousand tears of the great Buddha, my beauteous creation will not perform the necessary rites to hold himself together. Oh woe!

I have tracked him this far, as he appears to be largely moving by foot. Corporeally, he persists, although I do now carry a number of fingers, one ear and a kneecap, in the hope of reuniting them with their owner Mentally, I fear the worst. It would be a favour ever to be repaid, should one of my most enlightened colleagues assist me. Not much is required, simply prime a suitable cage, as one would use for bear, with some raw meat, and a can of oil - I do not know which part of him will be uppermost, but the scent of both will draw him. I will be with you the moment you announce his incarceration.

Henrietta, your gut feeling serves you well as ever, and let it be known that should the thrice honoured (Then, Now and Ever) Selden Torcs choose to contact me, I may be able to assist him in return.

Again, to the company on the whole - as no-one has been able to assist me in my search for examples of the Nepalese Wailing Clocks - perhaps someone would be able to furnish me with a loan of some work by the lamented Ernest "Cudgel" Griffiths. To recap for those unfamiliar with his work, Cudgel Griffiths was a truly skilled worker on a monumental scale. His more famous works would generally incorporate the finer points of clock mechanism, and a steam hammer. I believe there is a model in England that utilizes a 30 ton hammer, and a boiler of comparable size. Nevertheless, should anyone have access to similar model, or his ornately engraved curiosity works, at a mere half ton or so, I would be most obliged.

I must away, something stir near the cages.

May the sun shine on you face, and the moon on your honour.

Kanshi Ng
In the dark, - Friday, November 07, 2003 at 11:55:47 (EST)
Henrietta, I find that trade acceptable. My darling daughter is quite safe, but currently unable to communicate here. Nonetheless, the return on those items which the so-called Old Firm so basely stole from her would be much appreciated.
Normally, my price for this document would be much higher, but for one thing: my conditions.
First, you will have my copy in your possession only for as long as is required for the preparation and execution of the ritual. You may, if you wish, attempt to copy it in that time, but I WILL have it back.
Second, that the ritual will be performed under my supervision, and I will be privy to ALL results.
If you wish to use my translation, you must agree to abide by these two requirements.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Thursday, November 06, 2003 at 21:42:33 (EST)
The house of clocks, my dear Anon, is as real as ANYHTING is real. Somewhere... it exists. But like a winding white road that appears only when the moon is full, it is rather difficult to locate. Real is such a relative term.

I am requesting a Jack-of-All-Quests to undertake an... undertaking. I see sadly that Hake Cross O'Reed has finally returned to his fitful place of slumber... physically at any rate... and as I used to employ him eons and ages ago, I have grown uneducated in the fields of bounty hunters and men for hire.

There is a legend told, rumoured, and printed on leaflets at the House of Clocks, that tells of the Whirligig Clock of Katmandu. It is not made up of mundane clock works such as cogs gears, and springs, but is instead filled with a thousand ageless whirligig beetles, who all weave an intricate dance that in turn moves the mechanisms of the clock. I am not interested in the piece for its rumoured powers of mass-destruction. Merely for its asthetic qualities.

I have heard that it was last seen somewhere near Nepal, or possibly Beruit. I would like to hire someone to retrieve it for me.

I pay top dollar... or fulfill wishes.

I Crouch and Wait With Baleful Breath,
Mr. Krickett.

Mr. Krickett
The Manhattan Projects - Thursday, November 06, 2003 at 18:03:46 (EST)
Marie your reputation precedes you and I’m honoured that you would even consider assisting me in this matter. It appears that you are indeed correct about how long the Rite of Clepsydra will take to translate; I’ve been working on the text day and night for the last few days and have still not come close to finding the key to the decryption. I am therefore also willing to offer a trade for the translation. When I was The Old Firm’s offices I was able to acquire some of the items that rightfully belong to your daughter Eledora and I believe they would also be of interest to you for sentimental value if nothing else. However, I will need to keep the patch of green-underarm hair from the deceased monkey until the rite is performed.

Kanshi I believe that Selden Torcs may be the solution to the problem of locating the Wailing Clocks of the lower Nepalese Valleys. It appears that every so often someone is born with the ability to look into the future as well as the past and present and I haven’t been aware of such an individual since Mordecai Mulroney passed away in 1894. It may be difficult to train his mind to distinguish between the different time periods but I believe the methods you’ve used in the past should prove adequate. Despite your understandable caution I would be willing to provide my current research on the matter (obviously with the information as to my contacts edited out) if you were to provide me with a copy of your findings when your research was complete.

To Mr/Ms Anon regarding the House of Clocks reality I’m surprised you could even suggest that it didn’t exist. If you are in the area I would heartily recommend you call in and advise you to pick up a copy of A Pictoral History of the House of Clocks and its Collections before your visit. Make sure you call into the gift shop as I’m sure you’ll find something there that will catch your eye (unless you wear the provided safety goggles). You may also find that Capt. Hendley may be convinced to give you a guided tour for a fee if he is available though he would probably require your name for this privilege.

Henrietta Mood
USA - Thursday, November 06, 2003 at 14:48:49 (EST)
Is the house of clocks a real place?
USA - Wednesday, November 05, 2003 at 17:16:27 (EST)
Henrietta, although we are not acquainted, I must confess to a certain sympathy for any other female who moves in horological circles, even one as obviously mad as yourself.
I have a translation of the Rite of Clepsydra, a collaboration between myself and my once-mentor. We undertook the project for our own edification, as each of us lacked at least one of the necessary qualifications to preside at the Rite. You, from all reports, lack none. Under certain circumstances, I might be prepared to share the translation with you. I fear that not even the finest scholar could translate this in less than a lunar year.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Tuesday, November 04, 2003 at 23:53:53 (EST)
Chorus, susurrus, voices, changing. Clock I will have, clock I have, clock I had. Voices, the counting words, changing, all is flux, unstable, chaos. Only time, straight.

Tell me the clock, tell me the clock, told me the clocks name? Why were the voices why are the voices, why will the voices, keep counting?

Clock was, is, will be, small. Only two handspans high. The mechanism made, makes, will make, no sound, but the voices I heard, hear, will hear counting the hours. The case was, is, will be, ivory, and the hands were, are, will be gold filigree.

How did I make it stop counting, how do I make it stop counting, how can I make it stop counting?

Selden Torcs
Boston, USA - Tuesday, November 04, 2003 at 10:06:15 (EST)
Ah Buck while I don’t deny having a chuckle outside your cabin during the last full moon I cannot take credit for your current predicament, that honour goes to Von Scabinet. I warned him previously that the speed he carried out his experiment would have side-effects but he ignored me presumably believing my advice not worth his attention. He alone is responsible for your rather messy problem though I have no doubt it’s only a temporary setback and you’ll find another corporeal form to inhabit soon if you haven’t already.

As for your claims that you’re not the gentleman that we seem to think you’ll forgive my scepticism as that is exactly the sort of ruse he would attempt. There are two ways to know for sure one being Kanshi’s proposal which could result in a great deal more than your restoration. The other being the Rite of Clepsydra which I am unfortunately having difficulty in translating. It appears to be in three different languages and also encrypted so without the key progress is painstakingly slow.

Kanshi I have never seen the clocks you are referring to and know them by reputation alone and I think you’ll find that their current owners will be reluctant to let you acquire one as they are greatly revered. However, they may be amenable to letting you study the clocks for as long as you require in return for several gallons of unrefined Monkey Agaric juice. You may have difficulty locating the monastery as it’s rumoured to have no fixed location in order to ensure the clocks are not corrupted by outside influences and I have not yet discovered an infallible method of predicting future locations but I wish you luck in your endeavour.

Henrietta Mood
USA - Monday, November 03, 2003 at 03:45:11 (EST)
I'm afraid I may not have remained in the Monk's Hood solution long enough. I am leaving... pieces of myself everywhere I go. Or, more accurately, portions of myself. I am losing cohesion.

I'm afraid that many of you have confused me with some other distinguished gentleman of an infamous nature who has put in numerous appearances on this web-site. I must effectively correct this misnomer: I am not he, and this is why, Kanshi, your odd-sounding suggested remedy to my current state will not help me. Someone else of your previous acquaintance may have benefitted, but alas, it is not I.

Henrietta Mood, I heard your laughter last week, in the madness of the wolves howling at the moon outside my cabin. You have joined the ranks of the eternally damned, and I can't wait until the day comes when you finally learn the consequences of your actions.

Now, you must excuse me, as my kneecap has just fallen off.

Dijon - Thursday, October 30, 2003 at 17:06:33 (EST)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

I mislike travel these days. The speed will separate the body and the tao, and adrift of touch to the Earth, I unravel. But when it must be, it must be. So with many imprecations to the Yama kings, may they grant me the honour of this plane for just a little longer, I have returned.

Buck, it still lives, though travel has weakened it. I remain sure that there is power enough to restore you, if you feel capable of the ingestion. Now would be the perfect time, I shall feed it again tonight, and leave it caged. You know how you can assist me. You remember the directions, I trust. Be strong, hold your Qi, and do not weaken to it's blandishments. As you have two hands, so it does; as you have blood, it has oil; for each perfected beat of your heart, the clockwork beauty will match and make and mesh.

Henrietta, be not afraid. I am confident there will be no repeat of the Nahuatl experiment. Think, my dear, what could come of this... True perfection, my dream realised, my work proved. The ability for us to link time and life as closely as nature has achieved. We will be as the Buddha.

To that end, I offer to the company as a whole a project. I am deeply interested in the sympathetic resonance found in the Wailing Clocks of the lower Nepalese Valleys. I am sure all here are familiar with these items, but please allow me to clarify. Nine clocks are forged simultaneously from iron of the same stock. These clocks are carried by the nine Bonzes of the abbey. When the Abbot, or Lama, passes from this plane to return to the Great Wheel of Transmigrations, all nine clocks shriek in unison, and their minute hand will point in the direction that the Bonzes must journey to locate the Abbot in his most recent incarnation.

This sympathy moves me greatly, and for any examples of these clocks, from the same "family" or from separate monasteries, I would be most forthcoming.

My honour is as yours, and all else is as dust and ashes.

Kanshi Ng
Ymir, - Friday, October 24, 2003 at 08:59:30 (EDT)
Well I’m sure you’ll all be happy to hear that the interview was reasonably successful though Mr Walker’s interview style was certainly was aggressive than I was expecting and I’m sure the marks will fade in time. I am now just waiting for their decision.

Buck I have to admit your reappearance is rather surprising if not somewhat inevitable. The solution I provided Professor Von Scabinet with while not banishing you to your original form would have at least destroyed the current body that you now use and should have been a small setback until other arrangements could be made. Unfortunately the man is a fool who believes in science alone and above all things and ignored my advice until it became too late.

Regarding your concerns about The Old Firm you do well to live in fear given past events. During the interview Mr Walker took great delight in showing me the severed arm that he had preserved and I have no doubt will relish another opportunity to carry out his previous promise. It is true however, a number of items from my private collection that when combined with 1 patch of green-underarm hair from a deceased monkey, specific little known rites that need translated and a few items that still remain undiscovered should have the opposite affect to that you were trying to carry out previously.

Kanshi my previous warning still stands and I hope that you heed it and would not use my property in some misguided attempt to return Buck to his former strength, the Nahuatl Experiment should be proof enough of the dangers.

Henrietta Mood
Recuperating - Thursday, October 23, 2003 at 00:32:25 (EDT)
Where are you my boy! We have been searching hi and low for you! (By we, I mean Dupont and I, as Boscoe and Tress had an unfortunate accident a few days ago... I will miss my daughter dearly)
We are in Death Valley at the moment, and we have made a remarkable find! Apparently the very sand and rocks of the area have all been meticulously arranged in a sort of calendar, that works as an accurate Almanac for bizarre weather phenomena! Even wind erosion and human tampering have been taken into consideration in its design. It is a true marvel of science. I see that by that green-striped lizard crawling sedately over that red-tnited rock that a Monsoon is due to hit Utah! Fascinating.

Goodness I'm thirsty.

Green is a tremblish fish with hats.

What did I just say?

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
USA - Monday, October 20, 2003 at 20:04:30 (EDT)
Kanshi, sometimes I fear that you and I are the only ones with a bit of sanity left between us.

Henrietta wheedles about the effects of this herb or that on my physical presence as if I cared a whit about what body I did or did not use from one day to the next.
We have known each other too long to fall prey to such petty naivetes. There is no way I can permenantly walk the earth, as Hendley has seen to that, but I still manage to make do. I always have, and always will. I function much like organic nano-technology. A self-willed digital tumor. It is truly amazing.

My old alliances and oaths mean nothing. I look out for myself only... but I consider you to be a friend of sorts.
I know that Walker and Wrack have lost interest in you for some reason, but your own rememdies have only half to do with this (should they seek you out once more however, I believe your precautions are more than adequate, as you are indeed a powerful Doctor). I fear that Mood beleieves she has some ace up her sleeve that she plans to use with the Old Firm (she is pathetically deluded, as they will use her and wipe their bottoms with her when they are through), that they are indeed planning to exploit.

I don't know.

My brain is still mostly liquid, and unstable. I have partial memories and half-recollections...

I miss my old self.

Von Scabinet may be a foolish little psycho, but he is clever, and I have much to thank him for.

p.s. Tell me if I can help you in any way Kanshi, and I will try my best.

Ymir - Monday, October 20, 2003 at 19:57:04 (EDT)
Dr Ng, it pains me that the onset of your advancing years has finally started to manifest symptoms more fully. As you are well aware the kleptomania that you referred to in your present and past messages was merely an effort to further my own research. You forbade me from pursuing the results that foxglove had on your experiments which necessitated the liberating a few more choice items that I would have had difficulty sourcing in time given the precise timing of such matters. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten that you stole the fruits of those experiments and I will come to claim what’s rightfully mine sooner or later.

I also can’t believe that you are still making crude references to what you know is something of an embarrassing ailment of mine. The potions you provided to cure me of the “lycantropy” were not only barely (if you’ll excuse the pun) adequate but in an effort to try and extract information regarding my work, which I realised too late to my cost.

If you do indeed plan to visit Buck I would urge caution if you plan to bring my property with you. I have some idea what may happen if two such horological entities were to be brought together and I fear that it could have an affect much worse than the ill fated “Nahuatl” experiment which I’m sure you remember.

Misters Walker and Wrack I do hope that Kanshi’s dotage has not in any way had an adverse affect on my current application with your company for employment. As to my above mentioned affliction, I came across a more permanent solution during my travels. Unfortunately the Swami that had this concoction proved less than receptive to my offers for a trade and things took a turn for the unpleasant when I persisted. The clock is now in my possession and I therefore have all the items on your rather comprehensive list. I will shortly start making my way to the location you referenced in your message with all due care and attention for the items that travel with me.

Henrietta Mood
Soon to be travelling again - Monday, October 20, 2003 at 10:37:26 (EDT)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

Most sincerely, I shall perform the forty-four fortuitous acts of contrition. Long has passed since my last visit here. I have used the time wisely, though my journey has not been comfortable. In an effort to rid myself of the demonic business cards of The Old Firm, I recently exchanged my blood for a particular combination of plant saps, pumped through my body using the natural power of the giant redwood. Even the numbing effects of fire ant carapace are unable to make this a pleasant experience, and I have been forced to take some time to relax following this ordeal.

But it has worked - ten thousand triumphant praises to the star shepherd - I am finally rid of the cursed cards!

To that end - Messrs Walker and Wrack, I would be delighted to furnish you with references to the suitability of Ms Mood. She is an excellent research assistant, and I am sure will be a worthy addition to your company. Aside from the conditions that afflict her, which I have referred to previously (and I see no reason to once again air the poor child's troubles in public,) and a mild case of lycanthropy that prevents her from working overtime, her raging kleptomania rarely impacts on her work, and often allows her to procure more unusual items at discount prices.

Professor Von Scabinet. All appears to be going to plan, please relax, and pay no attention to the sinisterly attired gentlemen who will visits you shortly. They are unimportant.

Buck. My boy - hold fast! Well you know these first hours are the worst, soon the hunger will cease, it is only until the proteins are able to replicate themselves. Be strong, as I hurry to you.

With haste,

Kanshi Ng
Still, in the midst of chaos, - Saturday, October 18, 2003 at 09:11:32 (EDT)
Accounts of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.
I'm never LATE.

Hugs and kisses:


Pensieve Oz AKK!

USA - Friday, October 17, 2003 at 17:52:52 (EDT)
Mr. Wrack,

I must applaud your decision to send a private message for your latest message if there are forces at work out there that can change the very content of your message. I have no information as to who could have done this or how it could have happened but rest assured if such information should be made known to me I shall inform you post haste.

I did receive your message and apologize for my tardiness in responding (other than the incantation upon receipt which was duly performed), however, I have been kept occupied in contacting my sources in order to procure the items listed. As I’m sure you are aware some of the pieces are quite rare and difficult to transport for any distance but I anticipate being able to acquire them all (including the four handed clock of East Timor) before the interview on Tuesday.

With regards to my previous employer Dr. Ng I must say I am heartened to hear that he is no longer receiving your business cards. We have had our differences in the past and given our history would prefer that if anyone is to end his life it is someone who has a personal stake in the matter and more to gain than simply a fulfilled contract.

Until Tuesday,

Henrietta Mood
Indonesia - Friday, October 17, 2003 at 09:38:04 (EDT)
To Wimbeldon and Wutang, of the Odd Fern... I must apologize profusely for my previous errors in spelling, and I am sure that I shall not make the same mistake a fifth or sixth time.

Buck, as I am wont to call him, has disappeared utterly. He ranted about soul-tranplants, and chronal-cloning procedures for hours at a time, and I always found him to be much more entertaining than most prime-time sitcoms.

The portable lab is driving through Colorado at this time, and the views are most stunning. Our computerized sundial is receiving some very odd readings... Dupont, my second in command is taking his turn driving, while Tress, my daughter, and her new gentleman friend, Bosco, catch some shut-eye in the rear bunk. The shocks back there must be faulty, as I hear lots of thumping and creaking sounds coming from that vicinity. Dupont, Bosco, and Tress are all that remain of my research team. But we shall prevail. The cloudy supernaturalism shall be pulled away from time and space like a dusty curtain from a long-neglected window.

We are out of mayonaise. Need to buy more.

Will write more later. There is a strange groaning emitting from the rear-end of the mobile lab. I must investigate.

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
The (Mobile) Institute for Chronological Oddity Awareness - Monday, October 13, 2003 at 21:14:21 (EDT)

There is unfortunately no time for our usual niceties. The firm's affairs in the Outer Realms have gone a bit south, and Mr. Walker is currently securing our means of transportation back to Earth, leaving me to address various issues.

Ms. Mood - On the behalf of my partner and the Firm, I must apologize profusely for the gross error in our previous missive, although I must admit my confusion. When the message left my possession, your proper name was the one contained within it. I dare say that somewhere along the line it was tampered with in some fashion. If our very words can be altered in such a way, I would caution all the users of this messaging service to pay close attention to what they are writing and what appears in the House's guestbook. And, of course, if any one of you has information on who might be responsible for this, the firm will compensate you handsomely for it. In regards to your other query, Ms. Mood, Mr. Ng is no longer receiving our business cards, and so will hopefully be more amenable to providing us with suitable references. We will send you a private message upon our return to Earth in order to set up a meeting.

Von Scabinet - For your sake, I hope your continual errors in the appellations that you have been using to refer to Mr. Walker and myself are due to absent-mindedness and not glibness. I don't appreciate glibness, and neither does Mr. Walker. We have needles and spiked planks that we reserve especially for those who are glib towards us.

Oh, dear, I must be off. I hear screams in the distance, and several nearby city blocks appear to be in flames. Mr. Walker must be nearly ready to depart...

Impendingly Yours,

S. Wrack, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
Piercing the barrier, - Monday, October 13, 2003 at 20:05:05 (EDT)
Misters Walker and Wrack,

I must confess to being somewhat perplexed by your last message and was left wondering who Ms. Reed is or was. I am not familiar with that name and also do not recall Dr. Ng ever having an assistant called Reed male or female. If it was some misguided attempt to insinuate that I am or ever have been in contact with Hake Cross O'Reed I can assure you that nothing is further from the truth.

I know that my previous employer did have some dealings with the man (if given past events I can call him that) but I was never a party to any of those transactions and as far as I’m aware and I’m sure that Capt. S. S. Hendley will be able to verify this Hake remains incarcerated by cold iron chains in the House of Clocks.

I believe that Kanshi may be somewhat reluctant to provide references (or provide one that is somewhat spurious) given that he is still receiving your business cards though I’m sure that you will have the means to extract a reference if it becomes entirely necessary. As for the interview I would be delighted to attend and only require a time and place (preferably in this realm) with any details of anything else that will be required.

Your servant,

Henrietta Mood
Papua New Guinea - Monday, October 13, 2003 at 15:05:55 (EDT)
To the Old Firm of Wookie and Wonka, I apologize deeply for the misspelling of your name. I plan to never let it happen again, I assure you. I would be most honored to have such experienced members of the Horological community pore over my research findings!
I am in dire need of assistance at this time as a matter of fact, as my test subject, whose name I never truly learned, (although he insisted that I call him Buck) has escaped. I have no idea how he could have disappeared so utterly and completely, but he was a very polite and refined gentleman, (albeit credited with the murder of at least one member of my research team... omlets and all that) and I will miss him, and I hope to see him again.
He left behind a note, layed out in pieces of shattered glass (all that now remains of the shattered monk's-hood tanks... he took the copper and iron circuit panels with him, the scoundrel). Three simple words:

"Persieve Oz AKK!"

I don't even know what it means. Admittedly, Stanley, the youngest of my remaining research team, and my witless son-in-law, found the message before I did, and 'nudged' a few pieces with his foot before I arrived. The message may have been corrupted. Stanley has since gone missing.
Regardless, I shall continue my research, from a mobile lab now, as it seems the government has grown increasingly curious as to what it is our Institute has been developing exactly. I have no answers for them, nor the patience to answer their wheedling questions concerning 13 dead or missing research colleagues and assistants. I shall take my last two men and one woman with me on the road, and our research shall continue unabated.
I shall contact you all further, very soon.
To Whopper and Whoopee of the Old Firm, I am assured that you can find me, regardless of my location, and my resources shall be yours to peruse freely. Any input from the two of you shall be valued most dearly as well.

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
The Institute for Chronological Oddity Awareness - Sunday, October 12, 2003 at 22:36:16 (EDT)
Belated greetings, one and all!

We would like to apologize for our lengthy absence. The firm was engaged in the execution of an extended contract for one of our oldest, dearest clients that necessitated a foray into various and sundry planes, dimensions, and other realms far removed from our own. Indeed, we have not yet returned to our native existence, but have managed to find a device through which we can access the Internet (although I would not exactly describe it as a computer).

Anyway, to business:

Ms. Reed - We are, of course, always delighted to acquire talented new employees. As it appears that Mr. Ng is alive and well and assuming he is willing to supply references, we will set up an interview upon our return to Earth.

Von Scabinet - It is Walker and Wrack, not Wrap and Walkman. We are rather sensitive about misuse of our names; I'm sure that a man so learned as yourself is aware of the power that names can have. If you would be willing to permit us access to some of your organization's archives and data, we are willing to overlook this slight. If you are not...well, either way, expect us to be in more immediate, personal touch rather soon.

Extradimensionally Yours,

Hieronymous Walker and Simon Wrack, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
Somewhere behind the world, - Sunday, October 12, 2003 at 21:11:26 (EDT)
Well it does unfortunately appear that I am still without a job and please know Professor Von Scabinet that I do not hold any grudges. I do understand your reluctance given the less than glowing recommendation provided by Kanshi and as a gesture of goodwill let me offer you some advice on the project that you’re currently working on. I fear that the speed that the experiment came to fruition may have caused side effects that will manifest themselves shortly. If matters escalate out of control I believe that a mixture of rosary pea and the venom from a yellow-bellied sea snake if ingested should suffice but only until the next full moon.

So far I have also received no response from Walker and Wrack though I remain hopeful (perhaps foolishly so) that a response may still be forthcoming in the near future.

Henrietta Mood
Mexico, - Saturday, October 11, 2003 at 13:39:36 (EDT)
Dr. Ng (Who I will from now refer to as Kanshi)
I thank you for your exact and indepth advice, although I fear it may have come too late. The proteins have actually assimilated into a humanoid form. A man of middle-sized appearance, whose features have not entirely coalesced. He has taken to wearing Wallace's discarded lab-coat and clothing ( I fear your theory concerning my lab assistants may not be true Dr. Ng(whom I shall refer to as Kanshi from now on))and rapping on the inside of the tank, requesting a warm cup of tea when the mood strikes him. He is quite an amiable chap, and curiously well-spoken. There is something odd about the eyes however. Last night I walked into the tank-room and found him outside of the tank, staring blankly at the wall. When I approached, I found that he was in fact checking his own pulse with Wallace's old Timex. The watch had gone dead of course, but the gentleman didn't seem to notice. He hasn't told me his name yet, although I'm sure he calls himself something.
I must say that I am very excited by this whole string of developments. Those three fools on the Nobel comittee (who disappeared under mysterious circumstances) that mocked me and my Chronological research, were obviously complete fools. What a discovery!

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
The Institute for Chronological Oddity Awareness - Tuesday, October 07, 2003 at 21:50:48 (EDT)
Mr Ng the news that you bring is joyous indeed that the insurance policy is alive and well, if not yet kicking, though I admit to being somewhat surprised at your knowledge of its existence. I thought the charms I had placed on its cell would have been enough to confound such attempts but it appears, not for the first time, I underestimated you. I do hope that you’re using the correctly refined Belladonna to feed it otherwise there may be some unfortunate side effects and for old times sake pray that we may come to some arrangement.

As to the fire I fortuitously found that the supply of spitting cobra eggs required for your most recent experiment were spoiled and I had left for the local market to replenish the supplies. Imagine my surprise at the end of the two day journey back to find everything in flames and I understand now that it was to cover the theft of my life’s work.

I do understand your concern over my possible of new employer, however, I feel that your qualms are more to do you with your own dealings with them rather than my well being. I must confess to being even more impressed that their business cards still appear when my own attempts thus far to locate you have failed. Besides I have been looking for a new employer and people of my, ah, particular skills are not in the same demand as they once were.

In saying that I am intrigued by any offer of employment that may be offered by Professor Von Scabinet though I hasten to add that the missing items were merely appropriated to further the research of my own personal project, the result of which is currently in Kanshi’s care. As for claims I ‘chase the dragon’ I must confess it is true but purely for recreational purposes I’m sure you’ll understand.

Henrietta Mood
Travelling - Tuesday, October 07, 2003 at 09:44:14 (EDT)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

This most dishonoured on begs pardon from the good Professor Von Scabinet. Twice now the Ronin Ng has not responded to your request in regard to his name. I am but a humble follower of the Tao, with an interest in time, and some small skill as a barefoot doctor. No honorific is necessary, please - no "Dr," and simply Kanshi if you will.

To continue with your experiment - firstly, I congratulate you on your generation of this true miracle. My only fear is that the overly swift replication of the horological proteins may impact their time-keeping ability. My experiments, before I had to destroy my laboratory, suggested that slowing the replication for a period yielded a stronger prion combination. I would prescribe no more than a teaspoon of twice distilled Oleander juice for every 100 gallons of protein mix. To the same volume, approximately a half a pound of arsenic, two gill of sparkling cyanide, and no more than a gram of high grade opium. Remember, Professor, the toxin will generate the anti-toxin, and in death there is life, as in life there is death.

In regard to your missing lab assistants, your biological-clock generates a tremendous life force. I am ... sure ... that the young Mr Wallace has been healed of his poor eyesight by the powerful sympathetic resonance, cast off his eyeglasses, and eloped with your missing partner. Alas, it is an effect I never experienced, although one of my longer lasting proteins would make me feel ninety again in its presence.

Perhaps I may offer my old lab assistant, Henrietta Mood to replace your missing colleagues. She is well versed in the arts of bio chronological research, and aside from her kleptomania, and unfortunate addiction to "chasing the dragon," I cannot recommend her services highly enough.

Captain Hendly - might I presume upon you to offer Professor Von Scabinet a particularly close view of the late O'Reed? I know you are fully as familiar as anyone with the aspects that will most interest the Professor.

Night falls, and I have been remiss in my meditation recently. May the Tao guide you all.

Kanshi Ng
Near still water, - Tuesday, October 07, 2003 at 09:20:31 (EDT)
Well, my good Dr. Ng (may I call you Kanshi?) It seems you have become something of an infamous celebrity of late. I feel almost guilty pestering you with my petty concerns over the rapid development that the overly-aware protein strands seem to be currently enjoying. They have in fact evolved into some sort of single-celled organisms, unlike anything I have ever seen before. There is a constant vibration that can be felt most clearly in the floor of the tank room, espescially when one is compelled to walk about shoeless, as I have been of late. They are all ticking in unison. Dr. Ng... what should I do? The cells have organised themselves into a disconcertingly humanoid shape that none of the other researchers on my team seem to have noticed. It waved at me just yesterday...
Wallace, a young man fresh from the university, whose job is to video tape all growth and expansion observations in the over-night hours has gone missing. I have told no one yet, but I believe that it is his spectacles that are twinkling in the ever-murky bottom of the monk's hood solution tank. I argued with my second in command over pulling the power to the iron and copper processors... but she finally saw things my way. I haven't seen her in a fortnight.

Captain Hendley! I would be delighted to meet you at the Griffin on Greyfriars. I look forward to seeing you, er, no, not next Monday, nor Tuesday, Wednesday? Next Wednesday at the Griffin on Greyfriars. I shall bring two members of my research crew with me, as they feel a bit 'overwhelmed' at the current undertaking of our group. The atmosphere at the Institute has indeed grown a bit oppresive, and these two boisterous young men deserve a brief respite. And of course, the drinks shall be on me!

To Ms. Tigler: I thank you for your most fascinating theories... although I find them to be as evermuch convoluted as those belonging to the good Dr. Ng. I do wish that the lot of you corresponding here would wash your hands of such occultist mumbo-jumbo and join me on the side of reason! My lady, I have not had the pleasure of meeting your daughter, but I would be most interested in observing her behavior upon entering the House of Clocks, should her heritage be legitimate. According to a Knowledgeable source on this very site, she should indeed be fit to enter without feelin the adverse effects of the genetic disorder that keeps your family from crossing it's threshold. Would she like to meet with the Captain Hendley and I next Wednesday? It would be most fascinating, I'm sure.

And one last message to the members of this law firm of Wrap and Walkman... I would be most interested in studying some of your methods of travel and communication. You seem to be well traveled and efficient in all your endeavors.

Thank You All Sincerely,
Professot Chadwick Von Scabinet III

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
The Institute for Chronological Oddity Awareness - Monday, October 06, 2003 at 14:49:34 (EDT)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the Earth.

Forgive me, all, if I am a little curt these days. I am currently most discommoded by the peculiar attachment of Messr's Walker and Wracks business cards. It appears that as soon as I am able to dispose of one, another soon finds its way to me. As my previous theories have not worked, I must now move to a higher level. Perhaps to sever this attachment a change is necessary...certain plant saps may be substituted for blood, and the carapace of the Lithuanian fire ant is well known for its...

My dotage catches up on me, and I fear I bore you all, contrite - I shall observe the forms of the seventy-seven sequential sorrows and move on.

Professor Von Scabinet, I must admit deep interest in your generation of the chronological protein segments. I suspect you will soon find early generation of mitochondrial DNA and advanced cellular barriers for this stage. While I was unable to hold the reaction steady for any advanced length of time, you may find that the addition of a tincture of Belladonna, not exceeding 15/4 potency and a strong Ginseng infusion will benefit your creation.

In response to your other query...perhaps Professor, there is more truth in in the soul than the world. I would suggest you ask the same question of O'Reed himself - perhaps Captain Hendly would be good enough to show you his workings?

Henrietta, dear child. I feared you lost to the flames, or to the shapes in the night. Of course I am not angry at you, and I have good news, your "insurance policy" is alive and well, although not thriving under my care.

Perhaps you will understand my reluctance, however, at this point to explain my whereabouts. I shall be in touch soon enough. But I must question you choice of future employers. 'ware the games you play, my child, for there are many teeth in this world.

In contemplation.

Kanshi Ng
Humbled by the stars., - Monday, October 06, 2003 at 14:37:04 (EDT)
My dear Mr Ng,

How I wept when I saw your lab in flames, only to find that your charred bones were not to be found in the ashes. I do understand that given the events of recent times that you will be inclined to disbelieve me but I had no part in what happened to your lab. I can assure you that my attempts to locate you have not been a further attempt to extinguish your accursed existence but merely to discuss matters face to face as we used to.

To Misters H. Walker and S. Wrack, I came across instructions on how to contact you on this site on a charred piece of paper located in the ruins of my (not quite late) employer Kanshi Ng. I apologize for being so forward but was wondering if you would be interested in employing someone of my many talents. Unfortunately the fire at the lab did more than destroy most of Kanashi’s work but also those devices I had set aside as an insurance policy in the case of such happenings and had yet to find someone to entrust them with. It does appear references may not be forthcoming at this point unless you are able to determine the whereabouts of Mr Ng. If you do not wish to offer an employment opportunity but have information that leads to his discovery then I believe that we may be able to come to a mutally beneficial arrangement.

Awaiting your reply,

H. Mood

Henrietta Mood
USA - Monday, October 06, 2003 at 13:22:34 (EDT)
This message is for Prof. Von Scabinet, should he happen to be passing.
I believe you were asking whether I could help you locate the House and its remarkable collection. I have to admit that some people find the directions given on this site a little misleading, confusing or incomplete.
If we were to arrange an acceptable date, I could perhaps meet you in The Griffin on Greyfriars' and if you were to provide me with a couple of glasses of their 'finest' (I use that word advisedly) brandy, I would in-turn agree to lead you through the Shambles and give you a quick tour of the delights of The House.
As a fellow scientist, I would also advise you to purchase a 'HoC Oppenheimer Commemorative Atomic Clock' from the gift shop, if they haven't already sold out.
Unlike other pieces that use the moniker 'Atomic' to denote that their workings follow the oscillations of particular isotopes, the House of Clocks' timepiece bears the proud claim to actually be 'Atomic Powered'.
A curious colleague of mine has already completed some tests upon this claim and is quite content with his findings so far, if rather upset about the loss of his eyebrows.
'Science demands sacrifice.'

Capt. S.S. Hendley
The Old Country - Friday, October 03, 2003 at 13:41:25 (EDT)
Professor von Scabinet, O'Reed was, to all appearances and senses, quite human. There was nothing of the clock apparent under most circumstances. The only exception to this that I can give is that his heart-beat was most unusually regular, even when he had been, ah, exerting himself. Despite my protests, Hake was almost certainly the father of my daughter. He bled real blood, and wounds showed him to have perfectly human innards.
It is my opinion that Hake must have been the _genius rei_ of the clock, and that when he pulled himself free of it, he found some human body to inhabit. Not that your petty, small-minded science will permit you to believe such an evident truth.
Captain Hendley has been kind enough to provide me with an artistic rendering of the clock which is the proper home for Hake's spirit (for which I thank him again), and while it shows a number of attributes which are familiar to those who knew Hake, most reference his personality rather than his appearance as a man.
I ought to have guessed Hake's true nature many years ago, and can only assume that he used some sort of glamour to cloud my reason. The passing of time obviously resonated within him at a deep and uncanny level. He taught me many things about the nature of time, things at which the Sisterhood's training had only hinted. Later, I would learn mysteries into which those secrets fitted neatly, and which those secrets made more complete.
There were many things about him that I tried to forget as our enmity grew, and now that he is gone, I can permit myself to remember them again.
Perhaps he needed to place no glamour on me. Perhaps it was only the willful foolishness of a young woman in love that made me blind to his nature.
But I am maundering.
Professor, if my daughter consents to speak with you, then I advise you to be careful of your treatment of her. I will not take you influencing her lightly.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Friday, October 03, 2003 at 00:52:18 (EDT)
Ahem, well, it appears that the geometric protein designs have gained sentience. They move to specific algorithmic beats, and interact with a measured precision. It is as if they were timing themselves, or tied to a specific rhythm... Like the ticking of a clock. It is fascinating if a little unusual.
Mr. Ng, (May I call you Kanshi?) do you have any insight into these current developments? The protein segments also seem to be aware of my research staff's scrutiny. They are advancing by leaps and bounds every day... and yet I cannot seem to force myself to cut the power to the sixteen-foot tanks in which the copper and iron circuits are being stored. The shadows in the bottom of the greenish fluid-filled chambers seem to move with such grace at midday...
I am easily distracted however.
I am more interested currently in the matter of the O'Reed fellow who's adventures were so prominently displayed on this web-site. Is it true that he was some sort of hybrid life form, consisting of both flesh and clock-works? Was he in fact pursued by some sort of doppelganger/android? I find it most interesting that one of his associates would turn out to be a self proclaimed mechanical-herbist doctor. Mr. Ng, would you have any idea how such a life-giving, dual-force creating procedure would take place? Its military applications would certainly seem to be boundless.

Also, to the man calling himself Captain S.S. Hendley... I am to understand that you work among the exhibits in the House of Clocks yourself? Could you perhaps assist me in locating this fascinating collection in order to guide a research team in its study? I would be most grateful, in both respects of thanks and gratuity. Money is no object.

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
The Institute for Chronological Oddity Awareness - Thursday, October 02, 2003 at 22:11:57 (EDT)
Most honoured and twice reviled Professor Chadwick,

Often I have perused the works from your laboratories. You methods mean well, but their soulless nature brings pain to my heart. I shall spin a prayer wheel for your consciousness, for at this rate you will never rise above the hell of the bardoo level.

Professor, while it may seem unlikely to you, I invite you to consider truly, which clock lacks the spirit of the wind?

Perhaps this koan may assist your path to enlightenment:

Two monks were arguing about a flag. One said: `The flag is moving.'
The other said: `The wind is moving.'

The sixth patriarch happened to be passing by. He told them: `Not the wind, not the flag; mind is moving.'

If the weight of these thoughts disturbs you, then we shall meet soon. The barefoot doctor must consider the mind, as well as the body of his patients.

We shall have time enough.

Kanshi Ng
Touching falling almond blossom, - Tuesday, September 30, 2003 at 21:43:20 (EDT)
Mr. Ng,
May I call you Kanshi? My name is Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III, and I am a follower of your 'work'. I must say that my colleagues and I at the Institute where I work have all had a good snicker reading your book entitled 'Shadows Ticking Audibly'. Your theories are hopelessly archaic my good man! Although hidden under the guise of foolish mysticism I must amicably point out that several of them are scientifically sound, once the tales of soul-devouring demons and face-swapping spirits are weeded out of the equations. I was bot impressed and dismayed at the lack of methodology employed, but the irrevocable proof that my colleagues and I have discovered in putting many of your assertions to the test is irrefutable. Tell me, how did you truly discover the time-arresting properties of monk's-hood on the internal mechanisms of a copper and iron-built pocket watch? The 'whispering of wind spirits' can not possibly be the true source as that is a silly and primitively pagan claim. We have built several time-processing circuits from raw iron and copper, and while stored in a solution of distilled monk's-hood juice, their performance has been rather impressive. We are looking into practical applications for the three-dimensional geometric designs that seem to be appearing at random in the proteins of the fluid. It has all been very fascinating. I welcome you to meet with me at some time and discuss in a more level-headed manner the processes behind your research.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
p.s. I have heard it told that you are in the possesion of a rather remarkable hour-hand with some sort of medicinal properties? My associates and I were interested in perhaps dismantling it to see if its effects could be synthesized in a lab. We would be willing to trade services, of course.

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
The Institute for Chronological Oddity Awareness - Tuesday, September 30, 2003 at 20:50:51 (EDT)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the world.

Forty-four favoured felicitations to all who are familiar. Time has again passed, and so much has happened. O'Reed is gone, who would have thought he was a clock...although now it all seems so right; loved and hated by all, and ultimately, who among us can fight time?

Oscar, it appears I may have made an error in blaming you for my recent discommodation. I apologize, I am an old man, and it appears that my faculties may be leaving me, although my challenge in regard to the hand of Staten-Ankh-Teppen remains.

In meditation as I greeted the rising of the sun two days ago it occurred to me - there was no advertising, but rather a threat, each of us holding Walker and Wracks business cards is most likely to suffer a visitation in time.

I have no doubt that they were the demons who forced me to destroy my life work. Naturally, I destroyed the card, but I feel its baleful influence follows me still. I have a number of ideas for its permanent removal, which I shall work through in time, and once I am able to obtain certain items. At the moment I would pay well for a two headed snake, if anyone should happen to possess such an item.

Meanwhile, on a more positive note. Three times esteemed Captain Hendley - I did receive your return of my favoured Coralise pocket watch, although it seems somewhat fatter than before. I trust you did not store it with anything of an overly Yan aspect?

I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the earth. As always, your most humble barefoot servant,

Kanshi Ng
Facing East, - Tuesday, September 30, 2003 at 18:49:46 (EDT)
I am fascinated by this entire web-presence. My current studies into the scientific nature of awareness and its influence on the space-time continuum seems to be directly effected by everything that has transpired on this site.
I wonder if there are any who peruse this site that would be interested in contacting me for a series of tests and pyschological profiling to see how the laughable "supernatural" nature of any particular time-piece may or may not have mutated their DNA or altered their brain-wave patterns. You see, I am convinced that all this hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo can be effectively explained in an orderly and logical manner. I would love to speak with someone from the so-called 'Tigler' descendency, if it were possible. Also the young lady with the clock imbedded in her neck. I have a few tests I am quite literally aching to try on some of the pieces inthe House of Clocks itself, but I am unfortunately unable to find the establishment myself. Any takers?

-- Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III

Professor Chadwick Von Scabinet III
The Institute for Chronological Oddity Awareness - Sunday, September 28, 2003 at 19:02:15 (EDT)
A few things should be known by all involved:
1. Any descendent of a 'victim' of the Old Firm is legally obligated to any and all items that were stripped of said victim. It is an old and well-known law, and enforceable by Hellacious Decree. The Old Firm stands to be punished severely if such a WILL is not strictly observed.
2. It is known that any being that shares blood with an inhabitant (i.e. timepiece) of the House of Clocks, is free to enter it as she or he pleases, regardless of any other curses of prophecies regarding his or her family name. So... there is at least one member of the Tigler descendancy who is more than able to enter the House of Clocks.

It's all true, you can look it up.

Do with this knowledge what you will.

A Knowledgeable Yet Uncommited Observer
- Sunday, September 21, 2003 at 23:54:08 (EDT)
Greetings once again,

We must apologize for the brief hiatus in our communications. Following our role in the not entirely unpleasant demise of Mr. O'Reed, we grew rather...intense in our celebrations, which necessitated a few days' effort in destroying evidence, eluding the authorities, etcetera.

In any event, since our vested interest in the current situation (i.e., the destruction of O'Reed) has been discharged, the Old Firm shall be withdrawing for a time. Rest assured, however, that we will keep a close eye, a close eye, and likely other more esoteric sense organs as well, on this little community.

By no means have you seen the last of us, and we remain

Inextricably Yours,

H. Walker and S. Wrack, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
the Shambles, USA - Sunday, September 21, 2003 at 22:51:35 (EDT)
Hake was a clock all along! all makes sense now... I knew there was a reason I liked the man (or did I hate all seems so confusing these days).
When I next run into him I shall give his face a polish and oil his mechanisms. He was a fairly lousy human being, but it sounds as if he makes a lovely timepiece.

Capt. S.S. Hendley
The Old Country - Sunday, September 21, 2003 at 10:27:01 (EDT)
Kanshi Ng,
Obviously, there is something that you have missed. My Uncle Oscar cannot enter the House of Clocks and survive, not even long enough to make it to the nineteenth gallery, and certainly not long enough to join you in this contest.
Furthermore, I must protest your challenge, on the grounds that Oscar entering the House would also destroy all surviving members of his family. I care little for my own welfare at this point, but much for my daughter's. Despite O'Reed's claims, she is an innocent in this game. Help me to destroy Oscar Tigler before he can destroy my daughter.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
elsewhere - Friday, September 19, 2003 at 23:47:42 (EDT)
I have not much time left. They gave me means in which to leave one last missive. Already my left side is petrifying, surely but slowly. It is a familiar feeling from so long ago. The Walker and the Wrack still walk the wild-ways, and they know all the secrets... I am undone.
103years ago I escaped the House, and in doing so, my clock-works were torn free and left to rust. Baum found them, and re-fashioned them, and set them on my trail. Tik-Tok, his name was to be, until he caught me, and collected me, and returned us to the House of Clocks. All these years I have eluded him until the Old Firm saw fit to intervene. With their assistance he has returned me to the house, and together we have reformed.
I feel the old ticking within once more. My flesh hardens into glossy oak, and my face to pearl.
All my clocks and charms have been stripped of me, and I have no riddles or filters to engage my release. I am what I once was. A clock.
Marie, I am thankful that Eledora can never enter the housem because she is only half-human, and subject to its warping influence. It draws pieces to it like a magnet. The House itself is a trap. It is the real danger. It has its own designs, and gears tktkj;lkj

Srorry gettt;ling hhhardderekj to wrtite as time enofrces my chnaging. Seekek the OOLDL Firmmr for myy possessionsn eEllldorosa.

PReeSeReVEes YOuly ALals.

Hake Cross O'Reed
The House Itself - Friday, September 19, 2003 at 19:18:26 (EDT)
I have not much time left. They gave me means in which to leave one last missive. Already my left side is petrifying, surely but slowly. It is a familiar feeling from so long ago. The Walker and the Wrack still walk the wild-ways, and they know all the secrets... I am undone.
103years ago I escaped the House, and in doing so, my clock-works were torn free and left to rust. Baum found them, and re-fashioned them, and set them on my trail. Tik-Tok, his name was to be, until he caught me, and collected me, and returned us to the House of Clocks. All these years I have eluded him until the Old Firm saw fit to intervene. With their assistance he has returned me to the house, and together we have reformed.
I feel the old ticking within once more. My flesh hardens into glossy oak, and my face to pearl.
All my clocks and charms have been stripped of me, and I have no riddles or filters to engage my release. I am what I once was. A clock.
Marie, I am thankful that Eledora can never enter the housem because she is only half-human, and subject to its warping influence. It draws pieces to it like a magnet. The House itself is a trap. It is the real danger. It has its own designs, and gears tktkj;lkj

Srorry gettt;ling hhhardderekj to wrtite as time enofrces my chnaging. Seekek the OOLDL Firmmr for myy possessionsn eEllldorosa.

Hake Cross O'Reed
The House Itself - Friday, September 19, 2003 at 19:17:57 (EDT)
I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the earth.

This may be my last missive. Ten thousand curses have descended upon me. The demons of the seventh plane have arisen, and perhaps my time in this incarnation grows short.

As O’Reed predicted, it is not possible to hide forever - and the seventy suppurating demons of the seventh plane have finally found me. As the barbarian demons dew closer, I destroyed my laboratory. I wept as the flames ate the fruit of sixty years research.

Captain Hendley - I was able to save some grimoires; three of my most potent texts lie in the same location as that whisky you enjoyed. Take them, and may the blessings of the Buddha follow you - as they deserted me. Truly, if man was meant to know these things then I would be able to offer you more than the curse they represent. Take them, and I place an offering that you will be strong enough they are a gift rather than a curse.

O’Reed - Your relation with Nights Brothers is at an end, my favor is no longer an issue, as the remains of that once powerful chapter are thrown to the four winds. They lie bravely; those that are lost spent their last breath defending me, and that which we both hold dear. I ask your indulgence, as I return to the life of the barefoot doctor. I beg you, pass the word among those you hold in high esteem, I may pass their way soon, if they are silent and hospitable, then perhaps there is still time

Uncle Oscar. I expected more than this from you. You are wrong in your assumptions, and you have become Chin-Shaduah, the dragon that eats the sun. Your greed will consume us all, as surely as you have destroyed all I hold dear. From this day forth, I curse that you stand for, no longer are you welcome to the holds of I and mine. I offer you the honorable way out - stand forth, admit to all, and offer yourself to the Tantric Timepiece of Tchan-Pei. You know as well as I that the judgment of this clock defeats all foreknowledge of man.

By your peers and mine, in the view and judgment of our final home, the House of Clocks, I offer you this challenge. Before this year is done, we will both stand in the nineteenth gallery of the House of Clocks, each of us to place our right hands in the clock of Tchan-Pei and state aloud; “I hold the hour hand of Staten-Ankh-Teppen” The loser will, as you know full well, lose their right hand - perhaps then you will be satisfied.

On a final missive to all, before I must end this transmission - in the destruction of my laboratory - several of the more curious minor timepieces in my possession have scattered themselves from the flames. Purely from a psychochronological point of view, I would be especially interested should any of my fellow collectors notice unexpected additions to their collections, or certain depradations upon their local communities, I am most grateful if they would notify me. In particular I refer to the “Coralise pocket-watch,” secondly that most curious unnamed eight-legged carriage clock first noted in Mordecai Mulroney’s “Chronos Ultima,” and especially the seven rolling faces of Caligula.

Perhaps for the last time, I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the earth. May you all have time enough.

Kanshi Ng
Moving swiftly, - Friday, September 19, 2003 at 11:39:54 (EDT)
guy amn this site na helele oh so keep offf hhhhhhhoooooooooooooooooh
onyegbu <>
lome, lome togo - Friday, September 19, 2003 at 05:49:40 (EDT)
To the esteemed Captain S.S. Hendley:
I have personally never encountered such a light-blue young lad with such sleep and aging troubles in all my journeys. My instinct would be to say you have made him up entirely... but I rather doubt that, knowing you. I have however met a young lady who was born in the space between moments as time shifted between and exactly 9:27 and 9:28 (Which interestingly enough would be 8:88 if such a time were possible...) on the eighth day of August in 1888, during a split-second eclipse. She is quite venerable , yet strangely young looking, (she just turned 115 this August, and she's been absolutely giddy for the last 2 years at being a teenager again!)albeit with an odd orange cast to her own complexion. I have a perverse desire to see these two individuals meet, but also suspect that it could be the very end of reality as we know it if they should do so. I sense an iminent paradox would surely follow. But wouldn't it be fun...?
Cantakerously Yours, Hake Cross O'Reed
Preserve Us All

Hake Cross O'Reed
... now that would be telling... - Wednesday, September 17, 2003 at 19:16:12 (EDT)
To educated passers-by and fellow horological experts,

I am currently treating a young man for a variety of mental and physical abnormalities, which may or may not stem from the Scientific Community’s wanton tampering with matters temporal since 1972. My patient (who I shall call Mr.A for the purposes of this message) was born on the 60th second of the 59th minute of the 23rd hour of June 30th of that year. Born on the leap second, he shows all the symptoms of those poor unfortunates born on the 29th February, including a noticeable slowing of the aging process. He is also a pleasant sky-blue in colour and hadn’t slept a wink of sleep for over 30 years (until I brought him to the House of Clocks where we have found him employment and lodgings). Do any of you know of any comparable cases, which may shed light on Mr. A’s inflictions?

On a separate matter, I would like to publicly thank Mr. Ng for a most (mutually?) acceptable trade, yesterday. I had no idea that R’lyeh had a distillery; so I was delighted with the bottle that Mr. Ng gifted me. The whiskey unfortunately tastes a little of old-socks and a lot of fresh Tarmac, but the experience was a happy one and I’m sure that my taste-buds will grow again.

Capt. S. S. Hendley
The Old Country - Wednesday, September 17, 2003 at 13:27:07 (EDT)
I have the timepiece at hand, and the candidates have been located, but several of them prove illusive, and it may take a few days to... invite them for an extended stay.

Elin Du'Rethe

Elin Du'Rethe <>
France - Tuesday, September 16, 2003 at 08:44:55 (EDT)
May the beneficial Buddha smile benevolently upon us all.

I clasp my hands together, and bow to the four corners of the earth. Although some time has passed since my last visit, although the burns have left scars, the journey has taken its toll upon my aging limbs, and I have again seen things that defy reason and make pale the sixty sequential sacrileges, by the will of the divine one, I return and the hours of my life flow truly.

O'Reed has returned my hand of the hours. Once again I may count the time remaining to me. I offer this caution to any who may fall foul of a transaction with that snake of the long grass, O'Reed is more deadly than the scorpion nestled in a lotus flower, perhaps truly the only soulless man (if that be the word) I have ever crossed.

O'Reed, I offer an unusual experience for you. My thanks and gratitude. May ten thousand apricot flowers fall beneath your feet, and the divine countenance smile upon you. You have taught me many things recently, and these lessons I shall not forget. Indeed, as the oyster turns irritation to gem, I shall hold your actions in my heart for eternity. Rely upon me to watch your back, as I wish no-one a chance to strike before I may.

On that theme, Uncle Oscar (consider the term of your address a compliment from one venerable to another) O'Reed is yours as you wish, but consider my earlier warning. The clock of the Perfect Sage is another matter. There is still time for you to reconsider your actions, it would grieve me to do so, but your course displeases and belies the auspicious aspect, as I created - I shall unmake.

Fragrant Marie Elektra Tigler: hydrophobia(at) - I await with interest and respect.

Ahh, my bones grow weary with this posture, and the hour of contemplation is before me. In my meditations the greater sprit has brought forth a memory of an incarnation. Hieronymous Walker and Simon Wrack, I know you. Nights Brothers are familiar with you, and for the interest of the community in general, on their behalf, I note your peculiar aversion to the seed of the poppy, when crushed between a clocks gears.

Again, I clasp my hands and bow to the four corners of the earth.

Kanshi Ng
USA - Tuesday, September 16, 2003 at 03:51:11 (EDT)
Evening all, or morning, depending on where you are.

Time is so...subjective, hmmm?

In any event, on to business. First off, we would like to let all of you know that the information we have been collecting clandestinely on all of you has satisfied the terms of our agreement with our employer. We intend to remain involved in your group, however, for our purposes. The first of those being to sow terror and discord, which has been the work of our existence. The second is that we are always looking to add to our collection of intriguing clockworks, which seem to be in ample supply around here.

Gunderfell - It has occured to us that you seem to be of a temperament eminently suited to a business enterprise such as ours. If you would acquiesce, we would like to meet you to discuss the terms of your possible employment with our firm. During this meeting, a truce would of course be in effect. It is, we're sure you'll agree, difficult to conduct business while trying to determine how to best dismember the person across the table.

Du'Rethe - We have executed (ha! a pun!) our half of our contract, and trust that the proof is already in your possession. We are sure that you have ways of determining the authenticity of the eye. With that in mind, we expect to receive the agreed-upon payment before the third sunset following the receipt of proof, as discussed. We know you have the timepieces we mentioned, but if you need some time to find seven suitable...candidates for the other half of our remuneration, please let us know. An alternate payment plan can be arranged.

O'Reed - You are not forgotten. Mr. Walker intends to beat you to death with the arm that you severed. Sleep with one eye open, or better yet, do not sleep.

the Madames Tigler - We shall be seeing one or the other of you shortly. Any assistance either of you could provide in finding the elusive Mr. O'Reed would be most helpful, as well as worth at least temporary amnesty from our current...inquiries.

That is all, for now. Be seeing you...

We remain

Hieronymous Walker and Simon Wrack, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
Around..., - Tuesday, September 16, 2003 at 01:40:18 (EDT)
Preserve Us All
Hake Cross O'Reed
>sigh< - Monday, September 15, 2003 at 21:29:06 (EDT)
The Old Firm shall prove to be a powerful and worrisome foe, but me must all keep our heads. We make our little plots and thread them carefully, and we all revel in challenges. We step up and accept them. And we destroy them utterly. And then... we turn on each other.
All in good fun.
And now to find a secure hiding place for a while. Somewhere with doughnuts.

Hake Cross O'Reed
Happily Ever After; In Hell - Monday, September 15, 2003 at 21:28:27 (EDT)
Where to start? It's been a long week, so please forgive me if my missive omits some important bit.

First of all, Mother, please forgive me for the state of your associate and her video recorder. My roommate Ardelia was not expecting company, least of someone barging in without so much as a by-your-leave. This organic chemistry class has stressed her out a bit.... You may deduct the costs of the recorders (yes, both of them) from this month's allowance. Again, I can only apologize. I imagine the woman will heal up fine in the end, and I did not try to stop her from taking the water clock, the wagon wheel shaped clock, nor even that lovely mahogony one. Although, I must admit I will miss the latter. I do hope we'll have a chance to discuss things soon though; my allowance is proving wholly inadequate to cover recent turns of events. I fear I shall need a bit more funding than anticipated this semester.

"Uncle" Oscar- After long consideration, I have decided to meet you for tea. Perhaps at the Westminster Tearoom. I'm not sure which day exactly, but if you arrive there promptly at tea time each day it is possible that I might deign to arrive there one such afternoon. Or not. At any rate I hardly intend to be bullied there with such crudely transparent reverse psychology. Mom quit trying such things by the time I was 4.

Mr. Hake O'Reed- Sir, I must say that I am terribly offended at the notion that I attempted to kill anyone. Even more so at the implication of failure in such an endeavor. Were you truly my father (and I've my doubts despite available evidence which would seem to support the perposterous claim), you would know that I would rarely stoop to motivations as low and crash as common thuggery.

Now, between midterms, dealing with this mess, and any number of personal matters, I'm afraid I must be off.

Eledora Tigler
USA - Sunday, September 14, 2003 at 23:05:40 (EDT)
O'Reed, that item is still in my possession. In Glasgow, I mentioned a price for it, and told you that I would not hand it over for anything less. I find that I must now recind that statement. You are quite right. We must, for the time being, put aside our differences.
You know what Door stands across the Threshold. If you knock on it any time before the new moon, you will be admitted. For now, my wards hold, despite the business card, but I do not know for how much longer.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Sunday, September 14, 2003 at 22:06:48 (EDT)
Preserve Us All.
Hake Cross O'Reed
Elsewhere; As Always - Sunday, September 14, 2003 at 11:12:43 (EDT)
A few of you have taken it upon yourselves to contact me privately for one reason or another. There are concerns growing over the size and depth of our activities on this web-site. If this does indeed become an issue, I encourage all others to contact me as well, and we can all come to some sort of agreement. I myself have very limited knowledge regarding message-forums, but I am happy to act as a go-between in the event that we are required to move our activities elsewhere.

These are dangerous times, and I feel that our activities must be catalogued. With these new players on the field, Walker and Wrack, I fear for all our safeties. They bode ill for us all. (I of course welcome any of their input as well... albeit I shall take such input with a grain of blessed-salt). Joseph Gunderfell, Elin Du'Rethe, Kanshi Ng, Captain Hendley, Oscar, Marie, and Eledora Tigler, and the gentlmen Walker and Wrack... I would hate for all our plots and sub-plots to collapse beneath us like a deck of over-stressed playing cards.

To the members of the Old Firm: I do hope Simon is convalescing well... I would hate to have caused any permenant damage. Merely a calling card in exchange for a calling card, nes pas? Quid Pro Quo and all that.

Marie, beyond your threshold you may not be safe. I wonder if you have found a similar calling card. I fear mostly for Eledora, even though she has tried to kill the man she did not know was her father on three seperate occasions. You... I am only concerned for in an aesthetic sense. I think they can reach the shore easily. There are several items you keep safe that must not be relinquished. The offer you made to me is Glasgow comes back into my mind. Do you still have that item? If so, we should meet. Yes... face to face. The time has come.

Kanshi... I sense trouble on the horizon. Your amazing advances in clock-work herbalism may not be enough to keep you hidden from their senses. Keep low, keep moving. You cannot stop them, but a delay is possible. Keep in contact with me, we are not firneds or allies, but I feel I would be most upset if you were permenantly removed from our intrigues.

Elin Du'Rethe, as a relative newcomer to these intrigues, I know very little about you. I have a vague memory of you from long ago, or of someone with a similar name... I am disappointed to see you casting your lot with such doggerel. It shall not be forgotten, even if you should repent later on.

Joseph Gunderfell, I remember you quite distinctly, even if I do not ring any particular bells for you. I see that you have grown from a rather lanky boy into someone quite deadly and efficient. I know not what to make of you yet... I would ask that you stop your following me. It makes it rather inconvenient when I am already avoiding a rather dangerous golem, and now the Old Firm. Besides, your washer-woman disguise is rather unconvincing. You should meet my daughter, Eledora. She is enchanting to be sure, and looks much better in stockings.

Oscar... I warn you to keep your distance from my daughter. There is no love lost between the Tiglers and O'Reeds, to be sure, but Eledora holds a special place in my heart. If only I could keep her from trying to cut it out! I wonder if the key younf Joseph has located is indeed what it seems. It is strange to me that an estate sale should crop up so suddenly with the appearance of the Old Firm.

And finally, to the Good Captain S.S. Hendley. You keep your own thoughts well, and you often find yourself above these foolish games the rest of us play, but I assure you, you cannot stay safe in Chicago forever. The Swandoliers shall see to that. Beware the Walker, and the Wrack. They are more than any suppose. Keep the fourth face locked away... and yourself as well. I don't trust their inquiry.

And to my shadowy associate: I know I have been remiss in my correspondence with you, but I assure you, my mission and purspose is becoming more and more clear as time marches on. Kanshi Ng has supplied me with some rather vital information and items, and I move to contact the gray sisters even now. Soon good sir, soon. The Order of the Backwards Hands shall be well served. I have the key, and the Twele-Pedalled Clock. The others are playing into your hands as you first said. I wonder if I am but a simple puppet in your designs... but no, I have no more room for doubts. I feel diferent. The monkey-hair has gone phosphorent. It is a good sign.

Hake Cross O'Reed <>
Elsewhere; As Always - Sunday, September 14, 2003 at 11:11:51 (EDT)
Greetings to you all once again! I am delighted to hear that you have all received our cards, as the particular network which was used to post them to you is not always reliable (although extremely efficacious when on its game).

O'Reed - I deeply regret not being able to discuss matters with you in person. We did, however, find the lovely clockwork blade mechanism which you so conveniently left behind. Mr. Walker's arm is growing back nicely, by the by; at the moment, he is out gathering additional organic material in order to speed his recovery. I expect that, in the very near future, you will have ample opportunity to describe to us how your cunning device functions, before Mr. Walker subjects you to a decidedly personal and highly inventive bout of unimaginably painful torture, prior to your rather messy demise.

Du'Rethe - We would, of course, be delighted to assist you in any way possible. While our fees are somewhat steep and absolutely non-negotiable, you will find that our services are well worth the price. Your conjecture about our intelligence-gathering tendencies is quite correct, and I will be meeting you at the appointed time and place. Mr. Walker, unfortunately, will be unable to join us, as he has just returned with what looks to be the remains of a vagrant of some kind, and will require the remainder of the evening to prepare it for use in his convalescence.

Others - Rest assured that you have not been forgotten. Indeed, you are constantly in our thoughts, and our travel plans. As you will discover, we get everywhere.

I remain

Imminently Yours,

Simon Wrack, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
Traveling at speed, - Sunday, September 14, 2003 at 02:23:17 (EDT)
Ahh, I had been wanting to contact Mssrs. Walker and Wrack for some time. It seems there is a certain individual who has discovered the properties of my rather... eternal pocket watch. Even more disturbingly, they have come upon a method of seperating the timepiece from my person without its distruction.
I'd like to employ your services to dispose of this inconvenient personage, and to bring to me any and all notes and information he has gathered on my watch.

I will be at the local tavern (Your firm strikes me as one that keeps tabs on Time-piece enthusiasts, so I won't insult your intelligence gathering abilities by telling you which one) at seven P.M. to discuss the details of our arrangement.

Elin Du'Rethe

Elin Du'Rethe <>
Subject to change due to pursuit. - Saturday, September 13, 2003 at 22:43:04 (EDT)
That's supposed to be 'audit' not 'sudit'.
Preserve Us All

Hake Cross O'Reed
- Saturday, September 13, 2003 at 21:43:49 (EDT)
Has anyone else found a business card in his or her pocket with the following: -The Encroaching Offices of Walker and Wrack (The Old Firm) "We'll Be Seeing You Soon!"- With what appears to be a bleeding clock at the bottom? I have, and it was not there yesterday... And I've been on the move... Marie? Oscar? Kanshi? Anyone?

Kanshi Ng: You are I'm sure delighted to have your precious hour-hand back in your possesion. I trust the task I set for you was not too arduous. I thank you for the three 'True Names' that you sent, as well as the brown paper parcel containing the items I requested. That wasn't so bad, now was it? The Graeae will be of great help to me.

And last but not least: I am currently compiling a history of the events that have unfolded on this web-site amongst the "Important Players" in my review I have noticed many neglected yet still interesting 'cryptic plot twists' that may still pay out in the future. I suggest that you all do the same. I fear that the upcoming sudit from Walker and Wrack may cause a bit of havoc and chaos. Brace yourselves. The end game is drawing ever closer still.
Preserve Us All.
Tantalizingly Yours, Hake Cross O'Reed

Hake Cross O'Reed
This information is never accurate. Why bother? - Saturday, September 13, 2003 at 21:41:43 (EDT)
Mr. Tigler
I have just arrived back in the New World, having made a small stopover in New Delhi. There I attended an auction at which I believe I acquired something of great interest to you. I noted one of the lots being auctioned were the effects of some European adventurer which had been kept by his family for some time. This lot included a number of unopened boxes, one of which looked a great deal like the small box of curios in which you used to keep your key. Yes, that is correct, I seem to have happened upon the key to your pocket-watch, lost these many years. I have taken the liberty of opening the box (which is why I have been out contact for a few days, it takes time to crack all of those wards and traps), and have confirmed the contents to be yours. I assume you are interested in the return of this item...

Joseph Gunderfell <>
Vancouver, BC Canada - Saturday, September 13, 2003 at 01:50:21 (EDT)
Kanshi Ng, might I have the honour of receving an E-mail address by which we might privately discuss some of the recent developements? I believe me may have a few things to say to one another which would be of mutual value.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler <>
Undiscovered - Saturday, September 13, 2003 at 01:44:40 (EDT)
Greetings and salutations to all of the various parties who make use of this lovely messaging system! We will not bother to introduce ourselves, as we imagine that our reputation most likely precedes us. For those of you having trouble placing our names, you may recall our involvement (indeed, some might say complicity) in the matter of the Skeleton Clock of Samarkand, as well as the recent destruction of the being formerly known as the deity Apollo on a street corner in Waukegan. Due to our experience in matters horological and our great expertise in causing grievous bodily harm to things and creatures that, on initial impression, would seem rather difficult to injure, we have been asked by certain interested parties to look into the situation that has developed among all of you, revolving around this four-faced timepiece. You can trust that, whether you know it or not, you will all be receiving a visit from us, sooner rather than later. Until then, we remain

Impendingly Yours,

Hieronymous Walker and Simon Wrack, of Walker and Wrack (the Old Firm)
On the move, - Friday, September 12, 2003 at 20:09:00 (EDT)
PS, darling... I'm sending someone around to collect a few of the family timepieces. Not the one with the poppies on the casing, nor the moon-clock (which I acquired through the sisterhood), but the three that come from Oscar's collection. Please hand them over. I don't know how messily they'll go when Oscar dies. And please don't try to hang on to any. I promise I'll videotape the whole thing, so you don't miss any of it.
Marie Elektra Tigler
USA - Thursday, September 11, 2003 at 15:45:06 (EDT)
Damn whichever one of you showed this site to her.

Eledora, darling, I am sorry. I would have told you, very soon now. But you are in danger as long as Oscar is still alive. He is obviously mad, and he will stop at nothing to get control of you now that he knows about you. I have sent some of my people to look after you. Please be careful, sweetheart.
As for O'Reed... He may or may not be your father, whatever he claims, and the other possibility is certainly dead, murdered by my uncle. Again, I would have told you soon. If it is what you want, I will do what I can to protect him until you can meet him, and make your own decisions. This I will do even though it furthers my uncle's schemes.
I promise you, my darling, that as soon as Uncle Oscar is dealt with, I will answer all of your questions, and allow you to make your own decisions, by which I will abide.
For now, though, please trust me just a little while longer. And please turn your own talents, and whatever resources you have gathered for yourself (no, I won't ask, but you wouldn't be my daughter if you didn't have some) to keeping Uncle Oscar out of Chicago. It is, as you have read, for your own safety as much as for mine.
Do not trust Oscar Tigler, whatever he may tell you. He murdered my parents, as he has murdered most of our line. Besides, what sane man quotes Darth Vader?
My darling Eledora, you are an adult now. Your life is your own. Please understand that I have always tried to protect you from the... complications... in my life. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I only wanted you to be safe.

Your Loving Mother,

Marie Elektra Tigler
- Thursday, September 11, 2003 at 15:40:05 (EDT)
Now with that bit of personal business aside I can move on to other bits that need attendance.

Joseph, O'Reed is vital to our long term endeavors so it would be best that he survives what ever encounter you make of him. Then again he does have a double that may well be able to do what we need so do what you think is best. I know where the double comes from and it is as resourceful as mister of O'Reed and has many fewer scruples. I am afraid it and several other duplicates came on the scene at the time of my release from the Manse. I hate to mention this at this point Joseph but there is also a Replica of you running about. On the other hand I think it has more scruples than you so beware.

Marie my sweetest pupil, a daughter. It seem your failure is now complete. If you will not turn to the dark side perhaps she will. There is another Tigler. Perhaps if you stay out of my business she can be spared. Think about it. Btw, it will amuse you to know that a the owner of a certain lady's Chatelaine watch has contacted me for a private dinner in the near future.

Captain Hadley, I miss you old friend. I wonder if you remember me. I remember you. The name was different of course. Here is a hint. That painting of you in the HoC. Who did you lunch with that day? Do you remember old Taylor Ozric? We should do lunch again soon Captain. Oh yes I think before midnight we shale have our reckoning as well.

Hake, we have never been friends, but I trust you all the same. You are a man of integrity. Not something I have ever had a real use for but I appreciate it. Let me have the Twelve Petaled clock. It has no properties with which I can bring about the end of the world, I cannot use it to wreck great damage upon my enemies. It is merely possessing of certain horological and alchemical properties which will make an old mans last months more comfortable.

Eladora if you wish peace and sanity avoid your mothers business. Especially avoid the Westminster Tea-room and Giftshop (famous for its working models of Big Ben) on St. George street in London between Mabon and Samhain during this year.

Lastly to the Venerable and respected Kanshi Ng. I understand the desperation of your plot but stay away from Mr. O'Reed until my business with him is complete, and if you should so much as lay a finger on the Clock of the Perfect Sage, YOU SHALE RUE THE DAY!!!!!!!

Cordially yours,

Oscar Tigler
Coastal, NC USA - Wednesday, September 10, 2003 at 23:47:37 (EDT)
A daughter?

The Cuckoo?


See you soon Eledora Tigler.

Your loving Uncle,

Oscar Tigler
Tennessee, USA - Wednesday, September 10, 2003 at 23:01:08 (EDT)

What is all this? You told me that my father died in a freak spelunking accident before I was born. Everytime I asked, you told me such splendid stories. Am I to know that they were all lies, Mother? And what of the dasterdly little cuckoo clock he supposedly left for me? The one with the frighteningly chipper little songbirds and brightly clad little children who seem so much more to be grimacing than smiling. Does that fit into your little game? Who is this mysterious supposed Uncle?

Mother, you shipped me off to college in August, and said goodbye with a finality that sent a chill down my spine. Not a word from you since then either. Then I read this. What am I to think??

After I send this note, through what appears to be my only means of communicating with you, I fear I shall have to contact your physician, and perhaps that sweet lady in your bridge club who occasionally came over. Agnes something or another? Surely I will think of her name. Mom, I am really quite worried about you. Please let me know what is going on.

Yours lovingly,
Eledora Tigler

Eledora Tigler <>
USA - Wednesday, September 10, 2003 at 22:52:15 (EDT)
Joe - My apologies. They were not sent by me, but by an over-eager underling. You know I have too much respect for your abilities to send such imbeciles.

Uncle - I am aware, and I have made my plans.

O'Reed's Doppelganger - Leave MY daughter alone, and out of this!

Captain - The authenticity of the fourth face is confirmed. However, the Sisterhood finds that, at this time, it is best pleased that the face and clock remain separated. My agent will be out of your house, and your hair, tonight. Indeed, she should already have left.

Gentles all, pray pardon the paucity of my replies, but I am currently much occupied with certain matters, and am indisposed besides.

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Wednesday, September 10, 2003 at 00:40:46 (EDT)
Mr. Tigler:
I am unsure what your relationship with Mr. O'Reed is. Should I be pursuing him as an objective or catching up with him to provide an escort?
I have sent you a list of useful contacts and caches of mine via the route codenamed John The Conqueror. I used palimpset A-19-B3 and the Huron encryption. I hope that they will provide a touch more comfort and as much utility as your poor old walking stick.

To Ms. Tigler: Kindly call off your lackeys. You only waste them by sending them after me. After all these years you should know better than to try and strongarm your dear old Uncle's friend Joe.

Joseph Gunderfell <>
Buddhist Shrine, The Himalayas India - Tuesday, September 09, 2003 at 22:38:57 (EDT)
That last message was a counterfeit, as it did not contain my tagline. Eerily, it was all completely accurate and up-to-date. Do I have an evil doppelganger?
Preserve Us All

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Tuesday, September 09, 2003 at 21:20:53 (EDT)
How lovely to see the sun once more! My problematic shadow finally managed to dig his way down through the earth and find me. Unfortunate for him, there was an army of rabid mole-men waiting to way-lay him. He should be occupied for some time.
I find myself in the Himalayan Mountains. In my pockets I carry several useufl items:
1 key, useful for winding a rather diabolical mechanism.
1 hour hand, useful for keeping track of the life-span of a particular Asian gentleman of my acquaintance.
1 patch of green-underarm hair from a now deceased monkey.
1 diagram detailing how to build a mole-man water clock.
1 thrid-best suit (smelly)
1 pair of slighty-worse-for-wear Prada shoes.
And a few other things that I like to keep to myself in the event of an emergency, or a nasty surprise.
I'm sure that all my associates and colleagues are overjoyed and delighted to see that I still draw breath, and I hope to see a few of you very soon.
The next question in my mind is:
Who is this gentleman calling himself the Perfect Sage, and why is he forcing this odd-looking (yet somehow familiar) Twelve-Peddled Clock upon my person?
Ah well. I never question the generosity of strangers. I am off to Vancouver!
Marie... tell our daughter that I forgive her attempts on my life, and am willing to call a truce if she is as well.

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Tuesday, September 09, 2003 at 21:12:37 (EDT)
Mr. Tigler,
Message received. I have abandoned all my other projects to find this clock for you. My investigations lead me to believe it to be somewhere on the northern side of the Himalayas. Do you have any information to the contrary? I've kept the Gurkhas on, I think they may perhaps be useful in this endeavor. In any case, I can't think of any endeavor in which I would like to be involved where a bunch of fanatical soldiers with large knives weren't useful.

On the note of the Chinaman: I finally caught up with him last evening. I hope you had no further use for him, knowing my methods I'm sure you know why. His item is now in my posession, and I shall deliver it along with this 12 Peddled Clock of The Perfect Sage you have requested as soon as possible. Could you possibly give me any clue what or whom I will have to take this clock away from? In my experience useful clocks almost always already have an owner...

Joseph Gunderfell <>
Trackless Wastes, Himalayas India - Tuesday, September 09, 2003 at 14:30:51 (EDT)

I do not know who you have been talking to since your message from Hong Kong but it has not been me.

Beware my trusted friend your life is in great danger. I did not forget you in the destruction of my abode and you will find that a large portion of my remaining wealth has been forwarded to your account by way of my usual methods. If you deliver the Twelve Peddled Clock of the Perfect Sage to my hands before my pocket watch reads Midnight then on quarter of my remaining wealth will be presented to you to keep or divide among you agents as you wish. If my niece should die in the process then that portion shall be a third. You may continue to reach me through this sight. The proprietors of the House of Clocks are some of the few people I have reason to trust.

On that note I bequeath at this time one quarter of my remaining liquid capital to the House of Clocks to do with as they upon the event of my death providing that a independent party of my choosing declares that HoC had nothing to do with the act (Mr. O'Reed, interested in the position?)

A last note of interest to my niece. I forgot to mention this earlier. Did you know that when I die that every clock I have ever handled will be destroyed. And did you know that if I should pass through the doors of the HoC that I and every member of my family younger than me will instantly be slain (A fine protection put over the House I must admit. Was it your idea Captain?)

That is enough for now. Up to my elbows in work. Haven't enjoyed my self this much in years. A human heart can keep time so well. People make for the best clocks. They just need a there gears adjusted a little.

Pleasant Dreams.

Oscar Tigler
Southern , GA USA - Tuesday, September 09, 2003 at 01:02:48 (EDT)

If your informants haven't told you already I am out.

Unfortunately in the process I burned down the family Manse, and every clock in it. Did I ever tell you I had your parents, hmm.., preserved in one of those clocks.

So All I have left is my old coat, my hat, a walking stick and my pocket watch. Well that is almost all. Do you remember that quaint disciplinary tool I used to use on your cousins. I have replaced it, and sharpened it, and whispered over it.

I just thought you should be warned my sweet little niece.

I am free.


Your loving,

Uncle Oscar
Heading North, USA - Tuesday, September 09, 2003 at 00:30:20 (EDT)
Mr. Tigler,
Having received your message to use this method for regular communications needing no encryption, I am doing so. The usual methods for encrypted messages are still secure and will be used for more sensitive communications.
The Chinaman gave me the slip in Shanghai, and your item is still in his possesion. He seems to have gotten control of one of the Triads, or at least contracted their services. I believe that he is going to seek refuge with his old contacts amongst the Thugee cult and am pursuing him presently. I have hired a small troop of Gurkha soldiers to assist me and will be landing near Madras in a few hours. I will keep you apprised of any further developments. Do you have any further instructions?

P.S.- I sent you a birthday present, something I acquired in Hing Kong, but I am unsure as to whether or not the courier survived. Let me know if it has gone astray.

Joseph Gunderfell <>
A Chartered Aeroplane, Over Bengal India - Monday, September 08, 2003 at 19:31:22 (EDT)
Captain Hendley,

A most gracious, if capitalist, offer - although one that confirms my previous views of you. While your offer of Divine Naga Juice is kind, you will perhaps forgive me if I do not leap to the fore to sample it. The lamentable rash and itching left by that evil concoction your refer to as ‘Capt. S.S. Hendley’s Efficacious Speyside Balsam’ has only just left me.

But I am a desperate man ... Captain, do you remember a night in Bombay, near the river? You demonstrated the most amazing effects of some potion on a recently expired young colleague of mine. I am in need, and perhaps it will buy me the time. Leave a jiggers worth it the House, and name your price.

But not that.

Kanshi Ng
USA - Sunday, September 07, 2003 at 09:34:28 (EDT)
Captain, I am sorry that my agent has so inconvenieced you. She must have forgotten her medication... I'll send some along, by the fastest methods available to me, but she is nearly done now. Another day or two should see it done. The results she got two nights ago when placing the face in the light of the half-moon were most encouraging.
Of course, once the verification is complete, there comes the bargaining...

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Friday, September 05, 2003 at 22:42:23 (EDT)
Miss Tigler, could I ask you to hasten your agent, in her researches into the validity of The Fourth Face. She is a pleasant enough person (she always buys her own round, which to my mind, is one of the definitions of a lady) but I’ve put her up in one of the guest rooms in the East Wing and at night her snoring carries along the Blue-Green Corridor, up the Glass Staircase, through the Animal Hall and to where I should be slumbering in my tower. I haven’t slept for three nights and it’s driving me to distraction.
Last night I timed her nocturnal noises and discovered that she snores regularly every 3.14159 seconds, which I guess some people would marvel at and call it ‘circular breathing’. I call it ‘a damned nuisance’.
And whilst I’m leaving messages for those who regularly pass this way: Mr Ng, I would be horribly affronted by your insinuation that I am a ‘snake-oil salesman’, but by a bizarre coincidence I have recently laid my hands on a couple of phials of Divine Naga juice, which I believe may cure your most secret affliction. Personally I don’t like selling holy relics for base currency, but ‘needs must, when the devil drives’ as they say.

- Capt.S.S.Hendley

Capt. S.S.Hendley
The Old Country - Friday, September 05, 2003 at 12:42:07 (EDT)
O'Reed, I will thank you not to mention publicly the states of undress in which you have seen me, regardless of how I may or may not have felt during those viewings. Your hunger is tarnishing your usually sterling manners.
I also thank you for your warning about my butler. I knew that he plotted to take that clock, but did not know he was rady to make his move. I have dealt with him, as well as with the one who should have warned me. As the butler was caught attempting to poison my trigle dinner, I suppose that I must consider your debt fulfilled, and you free to begin the assasination attempts at your leisure. As soon, of course, as you escape the maze in which you find yourself. Beware the center of that labyrinth, for I have some idea of what waits there.
Should Kanshi Ng's advice to you prove unuseable in some fashion, you might return to my house and bargain with me for the ball of Ariadne's Thread I own.
Kanshi Ng, O'Reed and I are the dearest of enemies, but are enemies still. Anything I do to aid him at present is done merely so that I may have the pleasure of killing him myself in the future. I have nothing to do with his theft of the hour hand, and nothing specifically against you... at present. Do not think to threaten me.
But I thank you for the advice.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Thursday, September 04, 2003 at 00:15:28 (EDT)

10,006 seconds. Exceptional, and in other circumstances, I would have more time to appreciate that feat.

You of all people, and possibly your new ally, Ms Tigler, know what your theft has done to me. I am becoming slower, without the guiding beat of my heart, my soul.... Return the hour hand...with haste, I beseech you.

Quid pro Quo? Very well, I suspect you will encounter your love soon - for once I am on your side, but in this I cannot help you. When the matter is decided, if you still stand (and although it is against my nature, I invoke the love of the Buddha that it should be so), in your journey through the maze; turn only left, hold silver in your right hand, and for my sake - be quick.

Ms Tigler. Why should I forget you? If you are in league with O'Reed, then you are foolish and deluded, however, you are now my executioner. Quid pro Quo? While you carry out your examination on the fourth face, I would store your mandrake oil, and indeed the pure Mandragoras in a room some distance from the potential fourth face. If you doubt my word, and if the fourth face is real, you may test this by exposing the face to a pinhead drop of purest oil...


Kanshi Ng
USA - Wednesday, September 03, 2003 at 20:49:07 (EDT)
Well, as it happens... the mole-people are remarkably friendly, despite a severe deficiency in intellegence and hygiene. They have been very helpful, allowing me access to their expansive maze of underground tunnels. I even peered in through a drain to spy on one Marie Elektra Tigler as she bathed just last night. I suspect she enjoyed the attentions... But I digress.
The mole-men have developed a spectacular water-clock fed by an underground stream. I can sense a strange power in its winding movements. If that power could be tapped... Unfortunately, the Mole people subsist on a diet of minerals, and I have been without much substantial nourishment in almost three days, as the rats mounted a great counter-defensive attack, preventing any future efforts I might put forth in hunting them. Yes, hat-pins do in fact make rather effective weapons, I must agree.
The mole-men's only other source of food is a large, phosphorent fungus that grows on the tunnels walls down here. Fortunately, they avoid it most of the time, as it causes them extreme flatulence. UN-fortunately, every Friday down here is known as Flatulent-Phosphorent-Fungus-Friday... and the Mole Men have quite a time of it. Sigh.
I have many matters to discuss.
To Ms. Tigler: I would suggest a different skin moisturizer than the one you currently use. Secondly... have your butler executed at the nearest convenient time, as he attempted to steal a rather valuable-looking time-piece from the mantel in your bedroom as you bathed (I eyed him from a wall-socket) and failing in his attempt miserably, (thwarted by a rather impressive series of magical wards) I heard him as he vowed under his breath to murder you before the week is out. If this helps you at all, please do let me know. I am anxious to repay my debt to you so that I may begin my attempts at murdering you again soon.
As for the illustrious Mr. Kanshi Ng... I say this: Suck it up old man. It is your fault I am washing mole-man flatulence out of my third-best suit as I write this. I have no doubt that your message is intended as a red herring! Or failing that... we are all in a lot of trouble. I did in fact receive your private message (sent by ventriloquist's dummy? Clever, if a bit off-putting). What you don't seem to realize is that my entire purpose in retrieving this particular hour-hand was not in fact to start the Eldritch-Mannifried-Bezoar Time-Detransmogrifier at all! But instead I simply acquired it in an attempt to have you by the "short and curlies" as a cruder man might put it. I actually have need your services... and may be willing to return the hour-hand to you in exchange for a small favor. Quid pro Quo and all that. Think it over. I trust your beard hasn't quite reached your knees? Think it over. I will give you more detailed instructions later, should you agree.
Although I can reach almost any destination using these accursed mole-men tunnels, I simply cannot find any escape route. I have peaked into long-thought-abandoned Aztec temples and witnessed the sacrificail murder of two-dozen virginal Frnch women (very hard to find these days) I have spied into the oval-shaped office located in one ery white house in an unspecified location in an unspecified nation, and watched obscene machinations going on of which no one else shall ever be aware. What I cannot seem to see anywhere, is a way OUT of this labyrinth!
On a slightly cheery note... I have heard the sounds of something digging and... ticking in the walls. My beloved enemy is close. And if he can get in... It is only a matter of time before I will have my way out.
Preserve Us All.
Ravenously Yours, Hale Cross O'Reed

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Wednesday, September 03, 2003 at 20:06:46 (EDT)

You survived. I'm disappointed, yet not entirely surprised, as your grip on life appears more tenacious than a cockroach. Like such vermin you will spread pestilence and destruction in your wake.

O'Reed, I am an old man, and the inevitability of time will soon take it's toll on me. I have never walked in the hinterlands of time, like yourself or that snake-oil salesman Hendley. My life has been sworn, and I have followed the straightest path throughout all temptation.

I fear you are fated to ever evade our efforts, and as time grows ever shorter, I would be honest with you. As a sign of good faith I offer you parley, and I have called off Night's Brothers. You may now walk freely, as freely as I will now talk.

The hand you now hold is not that which you seek. Your research, or others, have led you foul. O'Reed, believe me, do not use the hour hand as you plan, to do will condemn the world to a fate worse than that which you have sentenced me though its loss.

I beg you, if you have a shred of decency left in your soul, return the hand to me.

Record your answer here, and I shall count the seconds till you decide, as I grow ever older.

Kanshi Ng
USA - Wednesday, September 03, 2003 at 17:20:20 (EDT)
The guestbook is an entirely automated entity, and entries into it do not require approval before they are added to the page. I remove the spam when I can, but it's rather like sweeping back the tide. I apologize that I cannot keep up with them as they are posted, but they do disappear when I have the time to tend the website.
I am pleased to see so many like-minded individuals enjoying a place to converse on horological subjects, and feel that the benefits enjoyed outweigh the detriments of automated spam postings.

The Archivist and Webmistress
- Tuesday, September 02, 2003 at 12:03:21 (EDT)
I apologize deeply for any percieved offense. I had neglected to recall (as, alas, so often happens to me at this time of life) that not everyone owns such a marvelous timepiece as I, and therefore is not possessed of near-infinite free time. Please forgive me for my impeachment upon the honor of the caretaker of this fine site. I hope any wrath I have incurred may be averred. I would lend to her my magnificent watch, but I fear it is rather attached to my bloodline, and would pine away were it seperated.
Elin Du'Rethe <>
France - Saturday, August 30, 2003 at 23:50:49 (EDT)
Mr. O'Reed, I confess that you make me blush.
But at least I am reasonably certain that you're alive.
My agent in Chicago still has several tests to run on the clock face, and, at present, has some doubts. Nothing is certain yet, and I will refrain from posting more details at this time.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
USA - Saturday, August 30, 2003 at 23:35:25 (EDT)
Please do not fault the lovely webmistress of this site. She has very little time on her hands to take care of her own real-life dilemmas, much less spend every waking moment monitoring the traffic on her gueat-book. I have spoken with her personally, and know she is haunted by many demons at this time. Please be patient. She takes out the trash on a regular basis, as we all have seen in the past. Do not unduly beleaguer her at this time... or know my wrath.
And now to get a drink from a questionable underground stream that smells oddly of lady-bugs.
Preserve Us All
Unfakeably Yours (The One, The Only, Hake Cross O'Reed)

P.S. Marie, I know about the sixth and seventh toes you had removed from your left foot. How adorable (if inconvenient) they once were. Alas.

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Saturday, August 30, 2003 at 20:29:35 (EDT)
As a neutral observer (one who would be thoroughly annoyed by any golems and/or hungarians sent in his direction) who is thoroughly entertained by the ingenious machinations and indeed, the equally amusing blunders of my colleague time-piece enthusiasts, I am sadly disappointed by the providers of this fine internet service, who seem unable to distinguish the cultured missives of the aforementioned time-piece enthusiasts from the mindless babbling of half-witted apothecaries. Had I need for enhancements to my masculine member, I am sure I would seek them out.

Postscript the First- My good Mssr. Hendley, sadly the bookseller in my local township neglected to purchase any copies of your work, and I must therefore ask, do you perchance have any remaining copies which you might send to me? I regret I have no suitable modern currency on hand, but if you know the right people (I refer of course to Mssr. Parquette and his associates), as I am sure you do, the exchange of doubloons for Dollars, Pounds, Francs, Deutschmarks, or Lire should prove no problem.

Postscript the Second- I realize that the Euro is the preffered method of payment in Europe in these modern days, but Mssr. Parquette is not in favor of our fair country sharing a coinage with our teutonic rivals across the Vosges (and I must admit I agree), and therefore does not conduct any of his dealings with the Euro.

Elin Du'rethe
France. - Saturday, August 30, 2003 at 15:32:15 (EDT)
How amusing!
Mr. O'Reed, I do hope you wil pardon my mirth at your predicament. I would aid you in your trouble if I could (if only to have you further in my debt), but, alas, I and mine are occupied elsewhere.
You will also pardon me if, upon your escape, I await some clear indication of your identity before entering any negotiations. I am certain you can find some piece of information which only you or I would know.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Saturday, August 30, 2003 at 02:57:50 (EDT)
No it wasn't. And let me tell you WHY: I did indeed engage in battle with Kanshi Ng (after a very pleasant dish of Uni, Tuna, and Yellowtail; I must ask, was that ginger I detected, or a psychotropic drug? A nice touch in either case)in which I walked away the victor, and in possesion of a rather vital hour-hand to a rather dangerous timepiece. In doing so I angered the "slightly dangerous house of Assasins" known as the Night's Brothers, who vowed to eviserate me, or trap me in a collapsed tunnel underground... whichever was more cost effective.
I did indeed travel through Egypt, and Venice, obtaining information reagarding the Lychnapsia, and a small patch of green under-arm hair from a murdered monkey. As I arrived in London however, I discovered that my means of posting messages on this web-site had been temporarily blocked by unknown means, and I was therefore unable to update everyone as to my progress and location (my thanks is extended to Kageshi for making the mind-numbingly stupid mistake of relaying all of this curiously accurate information without actually adding my traditional tagline to the end.) As I enjoy playing the tourist every time I visit london, I began a traditional tour of the abandoned, collapsed, and quarantined (for deadly-health-threatening-reasons) Underground Tunnels. I find the quiet entombment peaceful and mind-settling under normal circumstances.
Luckily, I was able to replace my beaver-shoe for a nice pair of Prada's before finding myself trapped. Unluckily, the fur I unwisely kept on my person is an attractant for all types of vermin. Luckily, rats are both tasty and nourishing.
I am already out of the chamber in which I was previously held, and it is only a matter of time before I return to the surface. I do find the glowing green, larger-than-rat-sized eyes in the distant dark a bit unsettling, but my match-sticks seem to keep them at bay for the time being.
You may be scratching your heads at this time and saying: but how did he post this message? And my answer?
I have my methods.
Kanshi Ng, beware, for I am coming.
Preserve Us All.
Undyingly Yours, Hake Cross O'Reed

Hake Cross O'Reed
Somewhere Under London, USA - Friday, August 29, 2003 at 20:48:31 (EDT)
Yes it Was.
Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Friday, August 29, 2003 at 20:26:07 (EDT)
No it Wasn't.
Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Friday, August 29, 2003 at 20:25:48 (EDT)
I assure you that my last missive was genuine.
Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Friday, August 29, 2003 at 20:25:25 (EDT)
Ms Tigler,

I should imagine the real Mr O'Reed's embarrasment is caused by his incarceration in a disused tunnel of the London Underground, following a cunningly, engineered collapse. Most lamentably poor, some of the building regulations in that part of the world.

I am sure, however, that the ingenious O'Reed will grow strong on his diet of sewer rat, (a pleasant change from sushi, I trust?) and emerge to trouble me once again.

Nevertheless, now I must go to arrange payment for the Night's Brothers, the "slightly dangerous house of Assasins" the blessed O'Reed referred to ... while skilled in engineering accidents, they lack a certain style in forgery.

That, Ms Tigler, was what the incompetent fool Kageshi attempted to conceal when he forgot to attach O'Reeds traditional war cry of "Preserve us all" to the latest missive. My revenge shall be swift, and well, it is only fitting that his life be ended by the blade that missed O'Reed.


Kanshi Ng (Lately of Takayama)

Kanshi Ng
- Friday, August 29, 2003 at 07:18:25 (EDT)
Congratulations on your successes, O'Reed.
I'm afraid that this possible fourth face may alter matters with regards to the sale of the clock. The Sisterhood may decide that we need to study it ourselves before selling. Even if we do sell soon, the price will rise considerably.
I await the report of my operative, even now en route to Chicago. Once that has been received, our decisions can be made.

From the Threshold,

P.S. I admit to some confusion regarding your embarassment.

Marie Elektra Tigler
un - Thursday, August 28, 2003 at 00:39:58 (EDT)
How Embarassing!


Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 21:12:17 (EDT)
Japan was a success! The hour hand was in fact in the possesion of an herbal-machinist in Takayama. After a formal dinner of sushi, we dueled, and I walked away the victor. I have however brought shame upon a slightly dangerous house of Assasins... but who hasn't at one time or another, eh?
Egypt was also a serendipitous locale, as discovering that the Lychnapsia, or Ceremony of Lights dedicated to Isis, was instrumental in the creation of the item in question. Fascinating really, and knowledge of the exact ceremony may be vital to the order.

Venice, on the other hand, was a bit disappointing. Upon my arrival in Venice, I discovered to my dismay, that both Monk and monkey had been viciously murdered. I am happy to say that the monkey's green arm-pit hair went unnoticed, and is now in my possesion.

I am very, very interested in the timepiece described by Ms. Tigler and (recently) Cpt. Hendley. The O.B.H. would very much like to verify the existence of a fourth face, and correlate its signifigance regarding the four compass-points. I have heard rumors of a smaller, and similar piece that can be placed kiddy-cornered atop the larger clock causing... well, they are simple rumors, I'm sure.

But really Captain... insults? I believe a more accurate term would be a collection of similar hatreds poetically expressed in a common forum. The fact that we occasionally set Hungarians, mechanized golems, and 'hounds' upon each other's trails has no bearing whatsoever on the great affection felt for each other by all the participants in our clandestine 'events'. I am grateful to Ms. Tigler in the short delay she bought for me regarding my friendly "shadow" I shall keep my eyes opened for a similar opportunity to help her cause. Quid Pro Quo and all that.

I am off to London tonight, to gather supplies for my Arctic Venture, and then next to Greenland to hire help. May be out of contact for a few months... or an hour or two, depending.

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 21:11:14 (EDT)
A fourth face? Very intruiging, if it's true. Such a thing would, of course, be of great worth to myself and the sisterhood. We would, naturally, wish to verify its authenticity first. By this we do not intend any insult towards you, but it would be very easy to mistake at least one other timepiece's components for this one, even for such an expert as yourself.
I have no wish to start a bidding war over this, and if we acquire by violence, it loses a great deal of potency for our purposes. Instead, as we have the clock, and without it the face would be of little use (although the clock has many uses without that face), I will attempt to strike a deal with you.
We do not dicker. You have some idea of what we can provide. Name your price. As a sweetener, I will throw in four ounces of mandrake oil, extracted from my former mentor Angelica's heirloom mandragoras. The line has been preserved from many centuries. The oil, I extracted myself, by methods which provide unsually potent and pure results.
We would even be willing to work out something with the House, so that they might keep and display it for much of the year, so long as we might have the use of it when required.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler <>
Undiscovered - Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 15:29:24 (EDT)
On the assumption that young Miss Tigler is reading this, I thought I might take this opportunity to mention that I know of the whereabouts of a fourth face, which I believe belongs to your three-faced myrhwood time-keeper. I found it inside one of the mis-labelled Methuselah Clocks, in the cog-room at the back of The House.
Just think of the price that the completed device would bring if offered to the correct market (I must reiterate the young lady's question: Mr. O'Reed, are you interested now?)
I suspect that the proprietor of The House might like the clock kept here for the amusement of the paying public. A frog-faced boy, claiming to represent the Meatworkers has already asked for the device (with some malice) and one or two of my deceased colleagues have also shown evidence of posthumous excitement. My only fear is that amongst this company, a bidding war might produce some very real casualties.

- S.S.H.

Postscript I:- I'm sure I am doing you a disservice by even suggesting that you might attempt to take the fourth face by force, but just in case anyone suggests this course of action to you, please remember that I too was a member of the Sisterhood, until I was asked to leave due to a gender issue.
Postscript II:- This guest-book seems to have become a place for the demented and delirious to insult each other: a practice that I have little sympathy for (being a sober and upright gentleman).

Capt. S.S.Hendley
USA - Tuesday, August 26, 2003 at 13:36:02 (EDT)
My name is Pont. James Pont.
John Lawton <>
California, USA USA - Monday, August 25, 2003 at 23:39:13 (EDT)
Mr. O'Reed,
I was passing through Little Rock just a little while ago, and heard a curious clanking. Upon discovering it to be some sort of mechanized manikin, I jumped to the conclusion that this was your pursuer. As you are making yourself somewhat useful, I dispatch two of my more expendable employees with chronology-retarders. The effects, of course, cannot last long, but perhaps they will give you a little breathing room.
We can discuss my price for this at a later date.

From the Threshold,
Marie Elektra Tigler

P.S. to Uncle Oscar: Happy Birthday. I see I touched a nerve.

Marie Elektra Tigler
- Monday, August 25, 2003 at 04:10:22 (EDT)
According to my Pocket Watch it is my birthday. Wish me a happy birthday cretins.
Oscar Tigler <>
USA - Sunday, August 24, 2003 at 21:46:34 (EDT)
I've made the smallest bit of headway in our endeavor, my shadowy associate... I believe I have recently divined the location the hour-hand in a small village in Easter Japan.

As I left Arkansas for my twelfth (and hopefully last) visit, I found the lock on the steamer-trunk in which I resided had been tampered with, making it impossible for me to leave it without the assistance of a fifty-foot drop off of a rail-bridge into an icy and swift river. Enemies of our cause were kind enough to help me with this task at the stroke of midnight. I was freed by some very endeavorous beavers who were surprised to find a rather damp, albeit VERY well-dressed man inside. I swam to shore with the only regrettable loss of my left shoe, wich has been replaced with a slightly-less dapper but much more comfortable beaver-skin. I do not know where the golem is at this time, as I displaced him temporally, temporarily, before secretly boarding my train. I am sure he is on my tail as fervently as ever by now.

The leviathon link has been exhausted, and as Lemuria is only a cheap knock-off of the laughable Atlantis... lychnapsia is our last investigatable clue. I shall cross through Egypt on my way back towards the states after visiting Japan. There is a precognitive Monk living in Venice with whom I shall pay a visit as well. He possesses a monkey with a patch of green-fur below its left arm-pit. I trust you will recognise this signifigance.

To Hendley, Tigler, Quince, Oscar, and all those plagued by the chronologically demented and corrupted... know that the end-game is swiftly approaching. With every circle around the earth I make, I believe I see it a bit clearer on the morning horizon. Strange things may begin happening. I would advise all to avoid Chicago at all costs for the next millenium or two. I always try my best... though I always fail to escape its call. Those twilight-lit streets, those endlessly winding streets... the smell of rotting meat in the air... it is like a second soul to us all.

Preserve Us All

-- Unflinchingly Yours, Hake Cross O'Reed

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Sunday, August 24, 2003 at 18:43:49 (EDT)
Don't interupt your elders while they are speaking dear. I will pay attention to you again soon.
Uncle Oscar
USA - Friday, August 22, 2003 at 23:05:06 (EDT)
Uncle, dear Uncle. YOU chide ME for being melodramatic? Tsk. "Well you have launched into the midst of their intrigues. May the gods have look down on you mercifully. For I will not." Said, no doubt, in your deep, ringing, "I am Ozymandias" voice. Clearly, you have yet to outgrow your taste for melodrama.

Not only, Uncle Mine, have I worked out your approximate place on the family tree (only approximate, as I'm afraid I've lost a generation or two in my line, due to chronological oddities), but I believe that I have located at last your baptismal certificate. You didn't know, did you, that that priest was worried enough by the family's reputation to put a copy of it in the Bishop's personal records, as well? I haven't secured proof of who lies in the grave that bears your name, but I have a good guess.

I do not jab blind, Uncle. No bluff there. Obviously, the ticking of all those clocks around you have addled your mind. Go and check the hidden drawer in the cabinet on the East wall. You will see that the lady's chatelaine watch that used to be within it, the one that had synchronized with your own, is gone. Of course, neither is it with me. That would make it too easy for you to find me, wouldn't it? And she who holds it for me can no longer be made to answer YOUR questions. You saw to that yourself.

You ought to have guessed when you "gave" me the Sisterhood what I'd make of it.

Ah, poor Angelica. I didn't kill her, you know. I still had a use for her when that nuisancy Befania stabbed her with that clock-hand. But in the end, that all worked out for the best. I was even able to make use of Befania before I rid myself of her.

Cassandra, on the other hand, I am quite glad to be rid of. She was quite worried, you know, about the changes I was making to our liturgy. Of course, she was the only oe who remembered what it had been before... So really, you've done me a favor there, Uncle Oscar. Thank you.

I'll have to send one of the more intelligent Hounds out to pick up that wonderful little metronome.

Poor Uncle. It's a shame that you don't get out more. Letting underlings handle your research has left holes in your knowledge. If you don't know who The Mothers are, then of course I cannot tell you.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Friday, August 22, 2003 at 22:17:25 (EDT)
So many letters to reply to. I think this forum so nicely offered by the House of Clocks shall serve well to answer them all. I think it is time that much is revealed. After playing such a shadow game for so very, very long this will be some what refreshing really. Once it is said those in the know can't make it unsaid and those who are not will not believe it any way. How delightful this internet. I am pleased I lived so long to see such a thing. Where I fifty years younger. Or one hundred fifty even. Sigh! Well enough of that wool gathering.

Whom to answer first? Courtesy would say start with family and though we are a family of very strained courtesy believe I will let decorum lead. My dear niece. Actually you are my grand niece several times over. A fact I believe you may be aware of as you have been the swiftest of my long dead brothers line by far. Though I don't know if that is saying much really. "I had not expected to communicate with you again until the time came for you to Cross the Threshold and Walk the Shore", she writes. You know at this point I am willing to see you dead if for no other reason than that much melodrama disgust me to my core. I am serious. I got over such dribble before I left my teen years. You must be, what, 32 by now? But fortunately for family decorum once again I have a good many more reasons to want want you dead than just that. You inquired about my pocket watch and to the positioning of the hands. I will grant, you are correct. Though, I have no doubt you were just taking blind jabs. Those hands do approach midnight, and long they took getting there. But more on this in later letters. As to the Sisterhood and the baying of hounds. I am glad we have moved passed the fountain pen and blotter at this point in the art of correspondence because the force of my laughter would have made a terrible mess of this letter. Yes, I remember your Sisterhood. I remember introducing you to them in Italy. I remember putting old Angelica up to sponsoring you. I did it to keep you out of trouble you foolish girl. As my last student (or so I thought you would be at the time) I would have spared you the fate of our family. Not so much out of love or sentiment mind but because it amused me at the time. But no you had to put your nose back into business it didn't belong in. When I gave you a nice little cult to dominate. How is that for gratitude? Remarkable how Angelica died right after you gained acceptance. Did they ever find out who held the knife that plunged into her heart? Hmm... thought not. By the way, bravo my dear. For the second time in my life I was almost proud of you. I also believe you said something to the effect that only the intervention of the "Mother" could save me now. Well it will be difficult for your high priestess to manifest this mother. The reason for this is quite simple. A courier of mine, Alfonso actually, will be delivering a gift to that most august person just a few minutes (seven minutes, twenty-six point nine one five seconds) after I push send on this letter. Inside of the package, which she will not have to open by the way, it will do that its self, is a surprise. Some thing I bet not even you would have know I had in my collection. The gift is a metronome. It is small and plain in construction, composed of wood steel and brass. It is not its mechanism that is remarkable as is true with so many of the cruder artifacts that interest you. No, it is it's resonance that is fascinating. You see this metronome used to belong to none other than the mute violinist Erich Zann, most formerly of Mass. USA. I wouldn't bother checking on her. By the time you read these words there will be another spot in the world to which the clock known as Chyron's Gate should not travel.

Well I believe that will be enough for now. As Mr. O'Reed has been so kind as to point out. I am of delicate stamina.

Good-bye for now.

Your Attentive Uncle
Oscar Tigler

Oscar Tigler <>
Gainesville, FL USA - Friday, August 22, 2003 at 20:06:17 (EDT)
My dear Mr. O'Reed! I, dead? Not for some time. You ought to know better.
The offer I made you in Glasgow still stands, you know. I, and the item I keep watch over, could be of great aid to you. I shan't even hold your attempt on my life against you.
By the by, I have acquired a new item that might interest you, should you come to rest in safety. I would be pleased to sell it to you, through intermediaries, of course. A timepiece, made in Karia, with three faces. The casing is made of myrrh-wood, and faintly exudes that aroma. It is decorated with carvings of poppy and nightshade blossoms. The gears which run each face (separately) all interlock, and are made of a most unusual material. The bone faces... well... A most remarkable piece. Your Order might enjoy it.
Oh, and don't waste pity on dear Uncle Oscar. He despises you far worse than I could ever be bothered to do.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
Undiscovered - Friday, August 22, 2003 at 00:07:32 (EDT)
Ah... the ever elusive and dangerous Ms. Tigler. I'd rather thought you were dead after our run-in near Glasgow. How depressing to see you still live. The Sisterhood is an antiquated and near-dead group... or so the the world had been led to believe. The Order of the Backwards Hands has obviously not kept their books in order. If I were not currently stuffed inside a small and cramped steamer truck on a train headed west, I would find you and end your ego-centric machinations once and for all. And for shame! Speaking to Uncle Oscar in such a fashion! He is delicate of stamina.
Charon's Gate is the least of anyone's worries at this time my dear. Please do keep in touch... you're easier to track that way.
Preserve Us All
Ungratefully Yours, Hake Cross O'Reed.
P.S. To Captain Hendley... avoid her. For whatever reason. She knows more than you think.

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Thursday, August 21, 2003 at 21:31:08 (EDT)
Darling Uncle Oscar! How delightful to hear from you! I had not expected to communicate with you again until the time came for you to Cross the Threshold and Walk the Shore. But of course, I should have expected that you would monitor this site. How fitting that we should communicate through the House of Clocks!
Have you checked your pocket watch lately, Uncle? How close are those hands to Midnight? Have its dulcet chimes yet turned to the belling of the Pack? The Sisterhood is near. Soon, we shall have you.
Perhaps, as you leave behind even the Shore, I shall claim as my trophy that very watch. Perhaps I will even donate it, together with as much of its history as I am permitted to give, to the House of Clocks. Though that would mean that I could never again see it, it would be quite fitting for it to rest there, would it not? Our family has become so entangled with that House which we may not enter.
You should not chide me, Uncle. You spent so many years convincing me of the rightness of your path, training me in your ways, that you should not expect me to do other than follow in your footsteps, as best I may. It is far too late for me to change now.
The gods will look upon me with mercy. They have no choice.

From the Threshold by the Shore,

Marie Elektra Tigler <>
- Thursday, August 21, 2003 at 02:03:25 (EDT)
Well you have launched into the midst of their intrigues. May the gods have look down on you mercifully. For I will not.

Your loving Uncle,

Oscar Tigler

Oscar Tigler <>
Gainesville, FL USA - Thursday, August 21, 2003 at 00:20:30 (EDT)
Captain Hendley may wish to look more closely into the past -- or, perhaps, future -- of his intended before taking any irrevocable steps.

From the Threshold,

Marie Elektra Tigler
USA - Thursday, August 21, 2003 at 00:01:57 (EDT)
Mr. O'Reed may be relieved to know that, while HOC9302, "Charon's Gate", may yet pose a danger to visitors to the House of Clocks, this "Gate" requires not only the proper key -- which is, as yet, safe -- but also the proper location for it to be opened. Far more dangerous to the world at large would it be for that clock to arrive at Delphi or even a certain neighborhood in Seattle (which neighborhood has its own horological peculiarities).
Unless, of course... No, the possibility is too horrible to consider. Yet, in the interests of safety, perhaps Mr. O'Reed (or some member of the staff of the House) might advise me as to where I might acquire a pair of eagles and two knowledgeable handlers in the vicinity of Chicago.

From the Threshold,
Marie Elektra Tigler

Marie Elektra Tigler <>
- Wednesday, August 20, 2003 at 23:58:58 (EDT)
Alas, alack, I have lost one of my two keys in Arkansas. It shall take me longer than I expected to reach the prearranged location. Luckliy, I had hidden the second key in a discreet and unlikely location, and it was not found. Must purchase a second copy of "Walking Tour of the Shambles" in order to decode the message you described, as my first copy was also taken. The hands are also unavailabe at this time, but I have a lead. It will be soon.
Preserve Us All
Distastefully Yours, Hake Cross O'Reed

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Wednesday, August 20, 2003 at 20:29:03 (EDT)
I woke this morning uncomfortably folded into the fetal position at the bottom of a rather deep hole in the Arkansas wilderness. I am not entirely sure that I was myself bleeding, but I was certainly drenched in a sticky red subtance. This after a night breaking into several large estates in search of a rather important set of hands to a rather (currently) useless timepiece.
I am currently exhausted, (and depressed, having to make three dour phonecalls to three grieving hungarian house-wives and their three (apiece!) hungry hungarian babies)and and in need of a good long bath. I have been hearing the stealthy sounds of tickings and clankings in the nights... and so I know my adversary has caught up to me once again. He is much more cautious since the encounter in the shoe store.
I tire of this dark work... I tire of the hours... I tire of the uncertainties... and the gray inconsistencies of keeping the balances. I wonder if my bell shall toll soon, or if I shall keep marching on and on in this world, much like a clock-work man...
Thanks to Captain Hendley and Mr. Gilman for ending the everpresent threat of the troublesome sundial in Mr. Quince's basement. Damian, I hope the kind gentlemen allowed you to leave with some semblance of a life intact. Of course, even though the good work was done this time around, I must impress upon the world just how dangerous the good Captain is, and remind him that he will inevitably be destroyed by his own actions... or by myself... whichever should catch up to him first.
Sigh... I must now piece together the jigsaw that makes up last night's events.
Preserve Us All
-- Agonizingly Yours, Hake Cross O'Reed

Hake Cross O'Reed
USA - Saturday, August 16, 2003 at 20:49:01 (EDT)
To whom it may concern,
As you may have noticed, the world still exists and I'd just like to thank my colleagues at the House of Clocks for all their academic, spritual, psychic and financial help over the awkward affair of Mr. Quince's Unfortunate Solar Device. Some of you who have been following the situation in their local periodicals, may have already guessed that the solution turned out to be a compensatory contraption designed (upon the instructions of his talking-alarm clock) by Mr. Gilvie.
Mr. Gilvie is not the sanist fellow that I have ever met, but his capacity to save the universe and his generosity at the bar, should be applauded.
For those individuals struck by the dangerous affliction of curiousity, may I suggest that you read the detailed account of my battles with the end of the universe, which will be published by Capt. Hendley Press, for a reasonable sum, and on sale at all goodly bookshops. Order your copies now, because only a small number will be available due to the shortage of binding material (I have insisted that the books be bound in leather from the flayed skins of three Hungarian Assassins),

- Capt. S.S. Hendley

Capt. S.S.Hendley
The Old Country - Saturday, August 16, 2003 at 07:35:35 (EDT)
Dear Sir or Madame;

Perhaps you would remember me from my post a few weeks ago; the lady with the receipt and the rather peculiar clock necklace? The nature of the bargain I made and the necklace has recently been at least partialy revealed to me, as I have died six days hence. I am afraid the response you have written me in three days is useless to the matter at hand, though I thank you kindly for the attempt. However it may be of some reassurance to the other persons frequenting your establishment's guestbook that the world does, or has, or will exist six days from now. In the meantime I am studying 'A Beginner's Guide to Advanced Time Vocabulary' and paying very close attention to the lottery numbers in case--as it now seems likely--that this should happen again. I regret that I will not be available at all in six days, as I have no wish to die again and thus intend to spend all day in bed. Under the covers. Screaming.

Thank you.

A somewhat less puzzled young lady. <>
Pittsburgh, PA USA - Friday, August 15, 2003 at 07:47:30 (EDT)
I like your website however the colours you use arnt exactly easy on the eyes ;)
UK - Sunday, August 10, 2003 at 14:25:44 (EDT)
Very much enjoyed this, my second journey to the HoC. New visitors may be advised to watch out for the band, which consists entirely of sisters of the OffMoon, and can thankfully only be heard every fourth leap year, between 2 and 5 am, Eastern Time. Should you be friendily accosted by a maiden in the blossom of her youth, or offered cookies by a matronly woman who slyly offers to show you her witch watch if you would but come see the band, you who treasure your eardrums are urged to firmly, but politely refuse.
Michael Hauser <>
USA - Saturday, August 09, 2003 at 10:44:33 (EDT)
Very informative and well designed website. I'm sure, you will be successful with it, keep up the good work!
USA - Wednesday, July 30, 2003 at 11:02:14 (EDT)
It's really wonderful to see such a magnificent array of clocks, precious time-pieces from your side. I'd look forward to purchase a few from you very soon.
I also invite you to visit my own site.
Udaipur, Rajasthan India - Wednesday, July 30, 2003 at 08:16:30 (EDT)
Galleon Systems Ltd - Atomic Clocks for the Correct Time
Galleon Systems Ltd - Atomic Clocks for the Correct Time
USA - Monday, July 28, 2003 at 11:12:03 (EDT)
Hey nice site i dont like the background colour tho :P
Nuclear Sounds <>
west midlands, uk - Monday, July 28, 2003 at 10:44:20 (EDT)
Captain, oh my Captain. I hope you like Hungarians. They have extensive knowledge in the use of piano-wire, and they know what you looked like at one time. The picture was old and smudged a bit, but they got the general idea. Enjoy.

p.s. "Key" to the whole affair? Clever puns-manship. But tell me, how did you know?

Hake Cross O'Reed <>
USA - Saturday, July 26, 2003 at 20:59:59 (EDT)
As I was browsing a shoe store in Brooklyn the afternoon before last, and saw my dear predator contemplating me from several aisles over in the ceiling-corner security mirror. I must admit at being rather startled to see him up and about so soon. Mr. Baum would be proud that his greatest masterpiece turned out to be so damned resilient. Uncharacteristically, he was unaware of my stealthy movements as I circled around his back and proceeded to shoe-horn him into (temporary) dissuse.

Slightly off-subject, may I address the matter of the several-dozen or so messenger pigeons who have recently come winging my way from the ever-polite yet hopelessly doomed Mr. Damian Quince. They were delicious, although I must regrettably turn down your invitations to tea. I believe a certain mutual acquaintance of ours will be only too disappointed that my presence shall be missed, (but hopefully delighted by the trio of crazed assasins I have given his picture to). The ever irascible Captain is, like the very fabric of time itself, not to be trusted. As a friendly suggestion only, I would check over the dear Captains associates for any paraphenelia resembling the nuisance scraping about your basement. I find it very discomfitting that the Captain seems to have such dangerous poetry floating around in his brain that may describe exactly how to use, if not your exact time piece, a very similar piece in question. Damian, escape while you still can. I am sending you directions to a nearby meeting place where members of the Order may be able to assist you. Check your crazily convoluted but incredibly convenient pneumatic tube-system at dawn. The message will be in a random combination of Braille and Swahili. Please have it destroyed promptly.

To my shadowy associate: I obtained a secondary key in the confrontation with my nemesis. I shall be wending my way to you shortly. I am trying very hard to avoid the HOUSE itself, but the temptaion is great. It is getting very near. Please research: Lychnapsia, Lemuria, Leviathon.

Preserve Us All.

Hake Cross O'Reed <>
USA - Saturday, July 26, 2003 at 20:53:14 (EDT)
To the thoughtful Mr. O'Reed -

Thank you for your advice. If any miscreant attempts to breach the walls of the manse my man Brodie is a crack shot with a repeater rifle and can be something of a thug besides if "put into a mood." Besides, I assume the snow itself should stop any of the merely "watch-beguiled." I do, however, thank you again for your warning.

Yours -- Quince.

Damian Quince
USA - Friday, July 25, 2003 at 19:17:02 (EDT)
To the estimable Captain Hendley --

I cannot adequately express my relief at your generous offer. This is mainly due to the extreme chill I seem to have taken due to the steadily colder weather, but be assured that gratitude lies beneath. I would exhort you to dress warmly, and to be prepared to tunnel through snow. I have not left my home in the past two days due to the massive drifts that now entomb my town. I have also heard rumors of things living in the snow, predatory things that prey on unwary snow tunnel travelers, but I assume that a party of your great cognizance will have no problems with this.

As to your requests, the Mandrake oil and currency are of course no problem, but I regret to say that my final bottles of malt were consumed within this last terrible week by both myself and my manservant Bodie. If in fact you have any whiskey to spare it would be a welcome treat. I await your arrival with desperate eagerness - as I speak the sun is a guttering candle in the slate grey heavens, more black than orange.

God speed you -- Quince.

Damian Quince
USA - Friday, July 25, 2003 at 19:10:34 (EDT)
To the troubled Mr. Quince,

I have located your address from a copy of the Liber Fulvarum that Mr. G gave to me, and due to the seriousness of your situation I intend to rally together a number of great minds and attend to the problem in your cellar, as soon as I am fit enough to travel – let’s say teatime on Sunday (tempus approprius).
There are some restrictions and preparations I must ask you to observe before our arrival:
Mr. Mulroney, Mr. Devon and Sir Peachy being occasionally dead, will insist on the removal of any holy relics from your house.
Messrs Ben Levi and Gilvie, if they can be persuaded to attend, may require you to burn a number of rooms and/or household pets in order to balance the forces.
I, of course, require the provision of six bottles of Mandrake oil, a further half a dozen of a good 10 year old Malt and as much currency as you can muster.
You are a foolish and guilty man, but I am sure that for the right price, your sins can be absolved.

-Capt. S.S.Hendley

P.S. If you come across Mr. O’Reed before teatime, please keep him there until we arrive. He will scream bloody blue murder, and then offer you anything under the sun to be allowed to escape, but I suspect he holds the key to the whole affair and must not be allowed to continue on his journey.

Capt. S S Hendley
The Old Country - Friday, July 25, 2003 at 11:51:36 (EDT)
Why... why would you DO that?
Marie of Roumania <>
Dunwich, - Thursday, July 24, 2003 at 03:11:59 (EDT)
good site
mugu <>
lome, olome togo - Wednesday, July 23, 2003 at 22:04:48 (EDT)
Enjoyed reading your site, great content, Keep up the good work!

Tom of "NTP Time Server" <>
Birmingahm, UK - Wednesday, July 23, 2003 at 12:09:29 (EDT)
To the proprietor of this establishment;

Quite recently and suddenly I became aware of two rather peculiar facts; one, that I was wearing a very small but intricate gold pocket watch upon a chain around my neck, and two, a previously empty compartment in my wallet now contained a hand-written receipt for "SERVicES rendered" in exchange for "never dying"--from, if I am reading this correctly, your fine establishment, or in the very least utilizing stationary bearing your name. I was of course vastly puzzled by this, for I could neither remember obtaining these items nor ever visiting such a surely memorable place as this House of Clocks, and indeed did not even know what it was until a very helpful websearch turned up this site. Further investigation has revealed that, while many of my relatives, associates, and friends can clearly place me in my home area on the date upon the receipt and for several weeks prior, several other relatives, associates, and friends between my home and your establishment insist I visited them--often at the exact same time as another friend says I was with them. I would of course merely dismiss this as a prank of said individuals, save for the somewhat worrisome fact that the chain the watch is on appears to have no clasp, and seems permanently attached to the skin at the back of my neck. Is there any light you can shed on this matter?

A rather puzzled young lady <>
Pittsburgh, PA USA - Wednesday, July 23, 2003 at 02:17:53 (EDT)
May I also suggest to Mr. Damian Quince that he keep any individuals bearing the sort of wristwatch described by "Resigned in Raleigh" away from his basement? The errand I am currently undertaking has much relevance in this matter. Preserve Us All.
Hake Cross O'Reed <>
USA - Tuesday, July 22, 2003 at 18:09:54 (EDT)
There was a showdown near a lobster-pound in Sorrento, Maine. I managed to wrestle it off the edge of a dock. The satisfying jangle of springs and gears told me that I had temporarily eluded my foe once more. But it cannot end until one of us is inexorably destroyed. I am moving south-west at this time, and expect to meet you at the prearranged location in two-weeks time. I still have the item with me, and will hopefully have delivered it before my nemesis awakes. Please respond to this posting if you are indeed still alive. Preserve Us All.
Hake Cross O'Reed <>
USA - Tuesday, July 22, 2003 at 17:53:18 (EDT)
You may remember me as the correspondent who inquired as to whether the inability of my computer's clock to ever be on time had any especial significance. I do appreciate your advice on that matter; it was surprisingly easier to obtain the tears of a virginal albino than I had imagined. I turn to you now with an altogether more serious request.

I've recently come into the possession (though I fear the item in question may have in fact have come into possession of me) a Central American sundial of incalculable vintage. It is literally all that remains of my late uncle Oswald's estate - he'd (unbeknownst to the family) liquidated his not inconsiderable fortune to finance a major if secretive expedition into the darker recesses of the Incan ruins - yet from a crew numbering over eighty men and millions of dollars of equipment, all that was found at Oswald's final campsite at the base of a particularly unusual site (a pyramid, not unlike its known fellows, excepting that it was built underground, its apex pointing deep into the darks of the earth). It is a hideous thing, a dusty tarry black excrescence, but due to a sense of familial duty and a wish to commemorate my beloved uncle I placed it in the center of my private rose garden.

Once I'd placed it in the garden I noticed a couple of things I hadn't perceived before. Firstly, there was a crude face molded into the metal of the dial, black hollow eyes above a wide open maw, with something small and circular inside I initially believed to be a tongue. Secondly, and more disturbing, I noticed upon trying to gauge the time with the infernal thing that it in fact cast no shadow at all. This in bright noon sunshine, mind you. No shadow at all. The ugly remnant of a long-vanished culture didn't even work. I'd placed it according to Oswald's notes (included in the bequest), but no dice. Hearkening back to my earlier frustration with computer clocks, I twisted the dial clockwise to see if a change might cause it to work, and felt a sudden wave of coolness envelop me. Perhaps a cloud passing over the sun? As I continued to wrench at the worthless thing it felt noticeably cooler and darker. I glanced up, annoyed, only to see something that made me shiver. The sun had dimmed from a bright midday yellow to a dull orange. There was no cloud in the sky; it was simply that the light of the sun was less. Without thinking much I attempted to twist the dial back counterclockwise, but it wouldn't budge. A cold wind began to rise. Panicked, I yanked the sundial from off of its moorings and ran back inside my house with it. I placed in back in the box it had arrived in, then quickly took it down to the cellar. I buried it under a pile of other boxes, hidden behind enough detritus that only a serious seeker could ever find it, then locked the cellar behind me as I left. Outside the wind was whipping up into an unexpectedly cold storm.

In the past several days as the snow has continued to fall outside my window and the news is full of violent weather phenomena I've thought of almost nothing but the sundial, and have surmised a couple of things. Firstly, that isn't a tongue in the maw of that crude face - I believe the circle within a larger circle is meant to represent the sun. Being devoured. I fear this thing is some sort of unholy dimmer switch for the sun, to put things in the cold vernacular. Secondly, like a ball set rolling down an incline, I fear greatly that it cannot be reversed or turned off; I have listened fearfully at my cellar door, and the sound I hear sounds awfully like metal scraping on concrete, the dial continuing to turn...

I don't know what the long-dead Incans or my curious uncle wanted with an extinguished sun, with a dead world fresh-baptized in utter darkness. Did they wish to pave the way for something that cannot abide the light? Of course, we shall all be frozen and perished before the final dimming of our star, but if this shadow falling across the world is but a welcome to something that cherishes the darkness, I worry for our souls...

I would appreciate any advice or assistance you could offer in this matter.

Thanks ever so much,

D. Quince

Damian Quince
USA - Tuesday, July 22, 2003 at 14:01:48 (EDT)
For the honorable Capt. S.S.Hendley,
Thank you for your quick response to my message. I did find the mechanism in question, but for some reason I don't mind the erratic wonderings of the tiny hands anymore. I have grown very fond of the timepiece and I would very much like to find out more about it from your Dr. Axiom. I have one question though about your warning . . . you see it seems rather a coincidence but I have recently acquired a clutter of cats which follows me around wherever I go. Do you think that Dr. Axiom will still see me if I don’t have any cats on my person, yet more than a few following in my wake?

P.S. I am no longer “Confused in Kansas” as the ticking of the watch seems more comforting the closer I get to the Ocean. I am currently heading through North Carolina and I feel like I may be drawn further north, maybe Maine.

Resigned in Raleigh <>
NC USA - Thursday, June 26, 2003 at 20:02:34 (EDT)
My dear Mr. Confused of Kansas,
I was just passing the House of Clocks (as I do when time allows) and happened upon your message in the guestbook. My name is Capt. S.S. Hendley and I believe I can help you.
Do not worry too much about the impossibility of removing the back of the watch. This is an old trick, much favoured by the makers of these timepieces. The mechanism is actually placed along and inside the length of the deceptively thin strap and the body of the watch is quite solid. I hope this is of use to you as it is all that I am at liberty to tell you about the piece.
However for a small fee I could introduce you to Dr. Axiom of Reykjavik, who might reward you with more knowledge than you are currently used to. Do not mention my name and do not carry a cat upon your person or he will turn you away.

p.s. I have now solved my problem with unwelcome poetry, by locking it in the back of my head, far away from my faculties of reasoning. If the poetry unites with discarded childhood memories or long-shackled guilts and anxieties I might face a dangerous uprising, but the poetry seems to be of a solitary nature and I think I have bested it for good.

Capt. S.S.Hendley
The Old Country - Thursday, June 26, 2003 at 15:52:17 (EDT)
To the proprietor,
I have not had the pleasure of visiting your apparently wonderful museum, but a local shaman/jeweler told me that you might be able to help me with a small problem of mine. You see a year ago I purchased a very unique looking wristwatch at a major clothing chain store. I was looking for something kind of funky for a goth friend of mine and someone told me that this particular store sold those type of things only at midnight under an odd numbered year’s summer solstice. Strange as it sounded, I thought it might be worth a look.
To my amazement the normal staff, at said store at the said time, was replaced by short squatty fellows in dark robes which almost completely covered their faces. Due to the poor lighting that night, I could not make out facial features very clearly, but what I saw in some faces made me think of exotic frogs and other faces reminded me of jelly fish. At the time I chalked this up to poor lighting and being the recent recipient of some rather poorly prepared Mexican cuisine. Well, besides the hooded figures and the whispered chanting coming from an unknown direction everything was as it should be, except for the wonderfully gothic clothes and unusual timepieces. I purchased a wristwatch that had strange glyphs for the numerals and astonishingly realistic looking miniature human hands for the minute, hour and second hands.
So finally I have come to the problem . . . a few days after the purchase I noticed that the hands follow no known method of timekeeping. I have spent hours on end staring at the frustrating piece trying to get some kind of pattern out of it to no avail. I have visited many jewelers and no one can even open the blasted thing up. I have tried myself pushing some of the odd buttons and knobs on the side but I can never remember what happens afterwards. This may sound strange, but sometimes I lose days with these little experiments, and following the experiments occasionally catch sloshing noises coming from outside my window. Please help me as soon as possible. The only understandable writing on the watch is on the back . . . it says, “MADE IN RY’LEH.”

confused in Kansas <>
KA USA - Wednesday, June 25, 2003 at 11:54:36 (EDT)
USA - Sunday, June 22, 2003 at 20:55:40 (EDT)
It has found me again. Been holed up in New England these past months. The securtiy systems have all ben compromised (set on timers as they were). A window broke downstairs a while ago (no way to judge how long . . .) It tried in Tibet, and again by the silo in Arkansas. It makes no sound as it moves, but I am ready. Patience on your part will be required. Will take time to extricate myself. Preserve Us All.
Hake Cross O'Reed <>
Franklin, ME USA - Sunday, June 22, 2003 at 20:52:24 (EDT)
keep off guys
odechi mugus <>
lome, lome togo - Wednesday, May 14, 2003 at 11:21:37 (EDT)
Please forgive me.
Iain Abernathy <>
Round Lk Beach, IL USA - Thursday, May 01, 2003 at 20:49:05 (EDT)
Nice site, very interesting.
Andy Shinton <>
Dudley, DY UK - Tuesday, April 29, 2003 at 03:03:44 (EDT)
To the proprieter of this fine establishment,

I fear that I must call upon you as a fellow clock-admirer, for, much to chagrin and dismay, a nefarious thief has recently broken into the premesis of the clockmakers shop owned by myself and my associate, Mr Jeremiah Grandfather. The thief absconded with several valuable items, which have been described in detail to the police, but one in particular is more esoteric and of interest only to collectors such as ourselves.

It is a particularily fine example of a man's pocket watch, encased in silver with engraving in the Greek style on the outer casing. Inside, the lid is lined by a single solid disk of mother-of-pearl, and the face is made of the same material.

The pocket watch is of tremendous sentimental value to myself and my associate, so I would consider myself in your debt if you could inform me of any sightings of it.

I remain,
your faithful servant,
D. Cuckoo

Mr Derek Cuckoo, Esq.
London, England - Thursday, April 17, 2003 at 11:25:46 (EDT)
I met a man, yesterday, who claimed to have been a junior curator of The House of Clocks, from 1962 to 1976. I have never met him before but I have no reason to doubt his story. He was, for many years, entrusted with ‘The Turning of the Glasses’ in The Hour Glass Annex, and he claims that the low murmur of sand cascading towards the lower sphere, has affected him deeply. He is now partially (and conditionally) deaf. He can no longer hear the waves gently rolling sand across beaches. He can no longer hear the roar of a summer rain-shower hitting the steaming streets. And he can no longer hear the sound of shuffling feet following him in the dead of night. He is considering legal action and I, in turn, am considering representing him. Due to our longstanding friendship, I feel I must first enquire whether you would like to donate a small fee to Capt. S.S.Hendley’s Old Soldier’s Fund. Such a donation may help me make a painful decision and keep this case from coming to court.
Capt. S. S. Hendley
The Old Country - Friday, April 04, 2003 at 12:17:16 (EST)
I recently revisited your museum for the first time since I was a child. Only the Ice Clock was somewhat diminished from the way I remember it (the result, I am given to understand, of a disastrous power failure during the 1979 blizzard, just months after my initial visit).

It was a relief to finally be allowed to part the heavy velvet curtains of the "adults only" room, and see for myself the fabled Pleasure Clock collection I've heard so much about all these years. Annie Sprinkle mentioned it to me years ago when I worked with her in Texas, and I've been intensely anxious to have a look for myself. I think I was most impressed with the pocket-sized model commissioned especially for Lady Churchill by a frustrated suitor; I had no idea such a natural range of motion was possible in a timepiece.

Please give my thanks to the attendant; she was kind enough to allow us to stay for the 6pm chiming. Although the phenomenon was so startling as a child that it haunted my dreams for months, this time I found it a gloriously decadent cacaphony. I have strongly recommended to a DJ friend that she visit and ask your permission to sample the noise for use in a techno track.

Finally, I would like to recommend two tricks I found to be useful to your future visitors:
1) Before entering, I took the precaution of leaving my watch under a rock near the sundials. Although when I returned, it was not the same watch as I had left, I find this one to be a perfectly serviceable replacement.

2) I had no trouble approaching L'Horloge D'Or, a fact which I attribute to the gris gris bag I purchased from a street vendor in Hackney, London many years ago and always keep with me now.

S. Addison <>
Denver, CO USA - Tuesday, April 01, 2003 at 19:37:53 (EST)
I greatly appreciated my visit to your surprising "House of Clocks". Never in life have I been so amazed and astonished.

I should like to suggest that, in your general brochure, you expand the section on use of language within your museum and point it out to all visitors. The Eschatology section of my "Hours of Your Life" chart pointed out that my frequent exclamations of "Well, I'll be damned!" had a most unfortunate effect.

Tim McDaniel <>
Austin, TX USA - Tuesday, April 01, 2003 at 19:11:09 (EST)
When visiting your establishment I had an interesting meeting. I was looking at your famous Mirror-Clock when all of a suddent a man fell out of it. He was a strange man with a prosthetic arm of some sort. He looked up at me said I looked like "the exultant when he found out what really went on in the stables." He smiled and left. He seemed friendly enough, but I wanted to let you know that there is a means of getting into your establishment without buying tickets
Aaron Matthews
USA - Tuesday, March 11, 2003 at 11:37:27 (EST)
Dear Sir or Madam,

I must thank you for the fascinating time I had visiting your museum. After a weekend racing to see the Sears Tower, Wrigley Field and the Lakefront, it was refreshing to visit a place that is no ordinary tourist trap!

But perhaps you can help me with something. When I visited last month, I brought along a clock for your perusal; a radio alarm clock that was given to my great-uncle Mordecai Wolfe. It is an ordinary clock, brown and black plastic with a red-letter display, of the type that may be found on the shelf of any major appliance store today. Which always struck me as rather strange since my great-uncle received the clock in 1967, 33 years before the model was first made. But forgive me, I'm rambling. I brought the clock to you in the hope that you might be able to enlighten me as to its origins, but I fear I cannot remember whether or not I had the pleasure of hearing your expert opinion. To be quite candid with you, I'm embarassed to admit I cannot remember anything at all after the tour you were so kind to lead me on, until the moment my plane touched down in California, where I discovered the clock was no longer un my posession. My great-aunt Letticia Wolfe, though not quite all there anymore, is normally a lovely woman, but she has been most upset with me for losing such a precious heirloom. The poor dear has taken to screaming "You foolish girl! You've destroyed us all!" every time I visit her, to the point where her doctor is encouraging me to stay away.

I hate to impose on you for what I'm sure is my stupid mistake, but if you could perhaps take a look around and see if my great-uncle's clock has somehow ended up in your collection, I would be forever in your debt.

Much obliged,

Sarah Lynn
Los Angeles, CA USA - Friday, March 07, 2003 at 21:12:33 (EST)
Dear Sir or Madame,
I have been hunting down a specific clock for some years now hoping to once again avail myself of its more... special qualitys. According to a bill of sale I recently discovered tucked between the yellowed pages of deCastries "Megapoliomancy"(thank god I thought to dismantle that wall!), your museum aquired this particular clock, a small but ornate piece referred to by the cruder peoples of southern asia as the "Reyeglat" or "Black Tog", sometime during the month of December in the year nineteen eleven. I laugh now when I think of myself at that time, thousands of miles away, on the bottom of the earth searching catacombs in ancient ruins for an artifact that was already safe within your hallowed halls in Chicago.

By the time you recive this missive I will allready be winging my way to your establishment with the sole intent of liberating the Reyeglat by whatever means necessary. I hope money will be enough of an incentive.

I will see you very shortly,

Dr. William Richard Marsh phd. <>
Arkham, Mass. USA - Monday, March 03, 2003 at 13:35:02 (EST)
I was assured by a friend who claims Crow ancestry that taking the clock to the Bighorn Medicine Wheel on the autumnal equinox should render it harmless. This was not the case. There have been at least three deaths, and although there is no sure evidence, I believe know what was responsible. I find that the knives in the kitchen are rarely where I left them, and often crusted with a darkish substance. Recently I have begun to see, out of the corner of my eye, when I happen by the parlor, a small girl looking up at the clock. I can't be sure but it seems to me that I glimpsed the selfsame child on my visit to your establishment. I am setting a photo trap in the parlor. Perhaps when I acquire a picture of this girl you would be so kind as to help me identify her?

Darius Van Barret

Darius Van Barret
Barriston, MA USA - Friday, February 28, 2003 at 13:52:25 (EST)
To Whom It May Concern:

There seems to be a human finger serving as the minute hand in the face of the mahogany grandfather I recently purchased at your establishment. Not that I mind the presence of the finger, mind you... if only it weren't so fond of making rude gestures at me my family and dinner guests at inappropriate moments (as if any time were appropriate for the latest one, which I euphemistically refer to as "the simulated phallus incident").

I wonder if there is any known remedy to curing the roguishness of this fiesty and seemingly adolescent digit? We have grown quite fond of its watchful guard and playful after-dinner banter, but the fact that this particular phalange feels the need to disrupt our household in such a lewd manner simply cannot be overlooked any longer. Is there some sort of sedative available? I look forward to your response.

Bradley Walsh, Professor of Psychopharmaceuticology and Pathological List-making <>
Oberlin, OH USA - Thursday, February 20, 2003 at 23:38:02 (EST)
A message for Mad Mucky:

My dear Mr. Mucky. You are fortunate that I was happening past the house. Please allow me to introduce myself, I am Capt. S.S. Hendley, amateur psychochronologist and as such I have a number of theories about your ‘clock case’ (if you’ll pardon the pun!) I believe that you are a latent papist and that your rodents are a manifestation of the three wounds of Christ; coming as they do, from the body of the timepiece. Their vision is impaired, as your own eyes cannot see the murky undercurrent of the faith that you have kept hidden beneath your calm and scientific surface. They stab at you with hatpins: symbols of mental restraint as these items are designed to keep your hat (and therefore head) firmly pinned upon your shoulders. The significance of your cry for help being repeated four times, I cannot yet fathom but I hope that the web-doctor can tidy this up. What I am sure of though, is that you are indeed mad, Mr. Mucky, but I believe that for two guineas a session I can bring you to the very doors of sanity and from there I can recommend liberal doses of ‘Capt. S.S. Hendley’s Efficacious Speyside Balsam’, which I believe, may just save you from your own personal house of clocks. I await your expedient reply and an initial postal order of three shillings so that I might set up my apparatus for further diagnosis.
- S.S. Hendley,

P.S. There is a rhyme in my head that is now barely audible above the constant ticking. Is it yours? If it is yours please reclaim it. It cannot be allowed to obscure the rhythm of the clocks.

Capt S. S. Hendley <>
The Old Country - Tuesday, February 18, 2003 at 13:16:32 (EST)
I would like to let you know that the timepeice you hired me to find is now in my possession and will be delivered to you. If the Brotherhood of Meatworkers troubles you over feel free to remind them that I am in your pay, and that there are fates worse then death, even for them. Also, I would like mention my expenses: the plane from to India was necessary since the uh... delicate workings of the timepiece (not to mention the space-time continuum) made it impossible to travel via my normal means. Also I would like to payment for my ammo expenditure, I normally do not charge for this but they were silver bullets.
USA - Tuesday, February 18, 2003 at 11:23:00 (EST)
This clock of your is infested with blind mice. I have tangled with several and have been challenged to a duel. We are to use hat pins. A very good friend tells me my opponent intends to thrust at my eyes. We are to be married. They appear to breed true. What am I to do? --Mad Mucky
Mad Mucky
USA - Sunday, February 16, 2003 at 05:40:13 (EST)
Once around, then twice around,
Then fully wound.
The minute hand, back to four,
Before the trick is found,
Before the mechanism claims,
That time is never bound,
Before the mechanism claims,
Another stopped watch and sound.
These are not my words: they have no place in my poetry. And yet ever since my visit to your most worthy museum, I have counted this verse amongst my belongings.
If you recognise these lines, please send me your true name and address and I will return it to you. In truth, it unnerves me and I would gladly be rid.

Capt S. S. Hendley <>
The Old Country - Saturday, February 15, 2003 at 17:39:04 (EST)
I can only speak praise of your most marvelous museum, though there is a small matter on which I feel I must seek your advice. After my son and I had visited your many fine collections, I noticed that my boy had somehow acquired a rather fine wristwatch. The watch had a most unusual clasp, fashioned in the shape of a dragon’s head. When questioned, he only repeated stubbornly that the watch had been given to him by his mother, who, may the Lord forgive her black heart, has been thankfully dead for many years. This was patently absurd, of course; he hadn’t left my sight during the entire foray, and besides, the warding talisman given to me by a street-peddler in New York has worked marvelously well these past six months.

The matter on which I would like to consult your expertise concerns the odd catch the watch bears. Even under close examination, the method of removing the band remains an impenetrable mystery. The boy claims that when he put it on, the dragon head simply bit down on the opposite band, which he identifies as looking much like a reptilian tail. Regardless of the boy’s story, the wrist strap seems to be shrinking at an alarming rate, and has now cut off most of the circulation in that hand. Do you have any advice on how I might remove the watch, short of cutting off the offending limb?

Donegal Brigham
USA - Friday, February 14, 2003 at 16:52:25 (EST)
Dr Lafayette,
Sir, since your departure, papa has taken a turn for the worse. The markings are more pronounced, and I sometimes fancy I discern an audible ticking from his left knee. If only we had taken your advice and treated the Oriental lady with more kindness and dignity! I implore you, come home! I will leave the messages in the usual place on Thursdays. I have increased the dosage for dear papa, but I fear the worst. I will await your advice.

Yours ever

Felicia D'Urberville
USA - Friday, February 14, 2003 at 16:15:37 (EST)
Going through my late grandfather's belongings I was intrigued to discover a small, intricately carved pendulum clock that, due to the markings on its underside, I took to be a souvenir of his time in your fair city. On further inspection I noted that the pendulum was prevented from swinging by what appeared to be the skeletal remains of a winged cat wedged into its base, a creature I had long held to be nothing more than legend.

Still clasped in its jaw was a note written in my grandfather's quivering hand which read 'The hour has struck and all my most desperate attempts at salvation have come to naught. God help me I shall never be free of it.'

I wonder if the employees of your reputable establishment could help to shed some light on the origin of this clock, which may in turn help to reveal the circumstances of my grandfather's 'death', to explain why no body was ever found, or why his image in our many family photgraphs has been replaced by that of a man I do not recognise.

Mordecai <>
Nottingham, England - Friday, February 14, 2003 at 03:02:12 (EST)
To whom it may concern,

I find myself in need of a presence within your fine establishment to complete one of the more exotic and dangerous of the spells found within a book I discovered in the Chinese-American Burial Temple. For reasons both too numerous and too tedious to list here, but which will I believe be known to the proprietor, I am of course unable to attend in person. This, regrettably, being the case, I would be indebted if one of your more talented employees could be made ready to welcome a ghostly emissary in a few days' time. It will be amply provided with damping equipment and carefully doused in wormwood in advance, of course; the East Wing should pose no difficulty, if suitable precautions are taken, and it will be under strict instructions to avoid the second floor at all costs. You would, naturally, be generously repaid for rendering this kind service, although perhaps not in the way either of us would expect.

Yours, respectfully.

- Tuesday, February 11, 2003 at 17:34:34 (EST)
I'm just jotting a quick note about my great delight at touring your establishment! My only complaint is that at the time of my visit, I was vacationing in Vladivostok, trying to find the restroom of the Borodino Cafe.
USA - Monday, January 27, 2003 at 21:16:35 (EST)
Imagine my surprise, upon visiting your fine establishment, of finding a genuine clock from Messrs. Thibodeaux et Delaine. Mr. Thibodeaux and his associate (and some say lover) Mr. Delaine opened a shop here in New Orleans, on Royal Street in the French Quarter in the late 1890s. They produced some of the most beautiful clocks ever created; these were lovely designs rendered in a strange style (reminiscent of Art Nouveau, which was popular at the time) that is disconcerting at first, yet grows on one. Many of the clocks were adorned with clockwork ironwood tendrils which moved through and around each other, pulsating about the clock in time with the malachite second hand (malachite second hands became Thibodeaux and Delaine's trademark, and they never made a clock without one after seeing the beauty of the first). Each clock had its own individual chime, glorious lilting tones taken straight from the musical mind of Mr. Delaine. The clocks were known to keep excellent time and never needed to be rewound.

The initial designs of Messrs. Thibodeaux et Delaine caused quite a stir when they debuted on January 6, 1895, Twelfth Night, the official beginning of the Carnival season. Mr. Thibodeaux was infatuated with mythology and folklore, and these subjects became the basis for Thibodeaux and Delaine designs. Some of the more popular clocks were the Centaur, the Bast, the Baba Yaga, the Kirin and the Leviathan. Many of these themes were also shared by the various Carnival clubs (called "krewes"), whose members were usually the rich. These affluent sons and daughters of New Orleans society turned out in droves to purchase one of "The Clocks", as they came to be called. Thibodeaux and Delaine time pieces graced the ballrooms and receiving halls of some of the finest homes in New Orleans during that Carnival season. Messrs. Thibodeaux et Delaine did a brisk business that January and February. Completed clocks stayed on the shelf for less than a week. Mr. Thibodeaux called for a doctor February 4 and was treated for exhaustion.

Mardi Gras day fell on February 26 that year. It was a bright, cold Tuesday. Parades rolled, mock kings-for-a-day reigned, and Thibodeaux and Delaine clocks kept time through it all. Their owners feted the occasion, throwing lavish parties which began precisely after the parades ended. The rich and beautiful men and women of New Orleans society enjoyed that Fat Tuesday most immensely and everyone agreed that the beautiful clocks of Messrs. Thibodeaux et Delaine added to the joyful and raucous atmosphere.

No one knows what happened at midnight Ash Wednesday, 1895. Servants and butlers awoke to find their masters and mistresses gone, their homes ringing empty with the silence. The clocks, the magical Thibodeaux and Delaine clocks, were gone, as well. It was as if clocks and owners had vanished into thin air. Being alerted to the unusual situation, New Orleans police descended on the Royal street shop where Mr. Thibodeaux and Mr. Delaine had plied their trade. The police found nothing in the shop to even suggest that it had been occupied. The shelves were dusty. There was no sign above the door. Messrs. Thibodeaux et Delaine were gone. No one has ever discovered what happened. No one has ever known who these gentlemen really were.

I was nearly beside myself to find a Thibodeaux and Delaine clock in your collection. I believe I may be the only New Orleanian alive to ever set eyes upon one. I asked your shopkeeper (I am supposing he was the shopkeeper, anyway) if I could touch the Bilquis (Thibodeaux and Delaine only made one Bilquis clock during their short tenure), but he gruffly refused. Nevertheless, I left your shop with a smile on my face. It was worth it just to see the thing, and know that it is there. The Bilquis is quite a treasure, priceless, I'm sure, and you should never part with it.

Kapaali <>
New Orleans, LA USA - Wednesday, January 22, 2003 at 22:40:32 (EST)
I enjoyed my stay, but I feel that all the squeaking at night has left me a bit peaked.
On the bright side, I do have chocolate.

David <>
Spring Lake, NJ USA - Thursday, January 09, 2003 at 19:45:17 (EST)
We enjoyed our recent visit to the House of Clocks, and to your fine city. I did fine one thing confusing though. Although I am childless, as my husband and I left the gift shop, a saleslady sternly told us that our children were not allowed to leave their wristwatches behind, and then she handed us two wristwatches. Could she have been talking about future children? It seems a little bit unusual as we have no plans to have any, and in fact I cannot have any.
Zoe Childer
Winnipeg, Canada - Thursday, January 09, 2003 at 18:17:50 (EST)
I was a first-time visitor to your House of Clocks and what a day I had! I found the clocks to be educational and entertaining. My wife and I were delighted and we especially enjoyed the gift shop. We went in with three children and came out with one. Couldn't be happier! We look forward to our next visit.
Ian Band <>
Boston, MA USA - Friday, January 03, 2003 at 14:21:59 (EST)
To all Sceptics & Credulous Tourists:

Having made exensive studies of this establishment, and frequent tours, I can confirm that it is entirely fictional and cannot be visited.

I strongly recommend it to all visitors to this fine city.

Charles Hoy Fort
UK - Thursday, January 02, 2003 at 06:57:25 (EST)
The clock I purchased at your fine establishment is quite lovely and remarked on often by my party guests. My only problem is in the cleaning of the inner mechanisms. What is that odd ichor on the gears and wheels? And why does it moan so when the hour bell clangs?
Sean Murphy <>
USA - Monday, December 30, 2002 at 20:59:02 (EST)
After entering your web site I noted the time on my computer strangely stating 9:31 am. My wrist-watch states 1:35 pm but I know it is a little fast as I am sometimes a little slow. The sun is high in the sky and already well on its way to descending. I'm going to take a walk in the hail that's currently falling and try and decipher how much time I've spent on the web today.
I. Jackson
Toronto, ON Can. - Monday, December 30, 2002 at 13:33:48 (EST)
i suppose i should start at the end...well as most things have an end, why should this not?

i did save a broken-winged loon yesterday...i could not just leave her there as that would have been disrespectful but i fear that i have tempted kearvaig by doing so, meddling, but i did not want her to die in such pain. she was most be...

i had a dream several nights ago. i was smiting a gray and black cat and as the wood came down on its head, its eyes were covered in a film of blood, overlaying its pupils in crimson. the same crimson in the eyes of the loon.

what does this mean and what do the scars on my grandfather's watch have to do with it? i have never owned a slave and am unaware of ever owning one though there are those who would gladly contradict me...

i flew in to chicago on the way to rochester several years long did my grandfather really have his watch? where is chicago and why will i go there to see this house in which i am already...

anthony <>
los angeles, CA USA - Sunday, December 29, 2002 at 21:42:39 (EST)
To whomever it may concern,

In visiting your fine establishment late last year I was struck by a paticular clock that seemed to be counting down to a given event. When I attempted in inquire the purpose behind this aberrant mechanism I was responded to in cockney rhyming slang by a gentleman who appeared to be both an employee and a hostage of your institution. Being that I am a colonial and am unfamiliar with the vicissitudes of rhyming vernacular I was left very confused indeed. I wrote down the current common time as well as the time on the clock, which extended to 15 digits on it's display. My calculations put the final countdown as coming just before midnight only a few weeks hence. Curiously my mathematical work has been confiscated by the staff here at Arkham, they say that it is disturbing the other restives and causing too much havoc with "the local continuity". If you could provide me with the current count on the clock as well as a rock hammer, a bone saw and six jiggers of Gin I would be eternally in your debt.

Much Obliged
Garrett Dwyer

Garrett Dwyer <>
Chicago, IL USA - Saturday, December 28, 2002 at 18:43:38 (EST)
- rellim mot ot
tub, evila llits ma i taht eveileb i
sraey eerth tsal eht tneps evah i
hctaw-bof llams a edisni deppart

hannah eve
- Saturday, December 28, 2002 at 15:31:35 (EST)
I purchased the Lovecraft grand-uncle clock on a recent visit. However, the instructions for polishing are unclear. Does "fresh baby fat" mean the baptized or unbaptized variety?
Robert Chambers
USA - Sunday, November 24, 2002 at 12:44:23 (EST)
Dear Sir or Ma'am
Please clear up some confusion for us. My husband insists that we vacationed in the Shambles and visited your establishment while there. I have no memory of this. Could you please confirm our visit?
worried in Winston

Ginger Foster <>
Winston-Salem, NC USA - Friday, November 22, 2002 at 17:44:43 (EST)
To any who visit this particular part of the shambles may I recommend that you trace down a copy of the hard to find "Common Cucurbitae and How To Identify Them" by the co-author of "A Walking Tour of The Shambles", Neil Gaiman. This book will prove quite useful when viewing the meat clock and surrounding environs. Also a suitable companion to any of the maps of the cemetary behind the First Church of the Sailor Return'd. If you happen upon the tomb of Elijah Merritt Foster while in that venue, please be advised the Foster family can in no way recompense you or your relations for injuries or fatalities suffered.
Cheers, Thom

Thom Foster <>
Winston-Salem, NC USA - Wednesday, November 06, 2002 at 22:41:55 (EST)
An eternity can and will be spent in your fine establishment. Who will be next to spend that eternity has yet to be determined. My employer has a great deal of interest in the maintenance of your fine grounds and establishment. Whiling away the hours in your graces,

Tzadekiel A. Edgebreak <>
Alabaster Gates, - Wednesday, November 06, 2002 at 18:47:40 (EST)
Since visiting your establishment, time has lost all meaning to me. Literally. I can no longer consort with others, my daytime stories run backwards, and the very thought of wearing clothing is abhorrent. This is my second attempt to contact you, as my first was sent while I was writing. I will probably end this five minutes ago, to sit and ponder the events of the previous tomorrow. Every night, my heretofore empty bed has been occupied by Horatio W. Tillynitch, a Scot of impeccable breeding, dead these two hundred years. He is joined by Calcinok, a 23rd century gumball salesman (apparently they have remained at the one-cent price). This destruction of linear time in my life has caused me to lose much sleep, and the cats are beginning to speak of retribution. Is there any remedy, or must I return to that House-bereft of God (a thought I dare not think, let alone speak), to face whatever destiny has alotted? i am a man without joy or garment.
Haakon Olav <>
Winona, MN USA - Wednesday, August 14, 2002 at 13:20:26 (EDT)
Please, if you find an extra clock among your pack-- I mean inventories, could you please let me know? I brought mine there once and I'm afraid it very much liked your fine establishment. It is smallish and appears slightly furry and friendly at first. It is of the self-feed-- I mean self-winding variety, so if you manage to confine it, please do not leave it with anything not of a mineral nature in the room, or in the adjacent rooms, for that matter. Please let me know that you have it and I will come immediately, IMMEDIATELY, to prove it is my curs-- MY CLOCK . . . by its broken pendulum chain, which should closely interlock with the gnawed half I have still attached to the pendulum. I am available at all hours, as I can not be allowed to rest without its rabid ticking and chiming locked away down, down, downstairs. Thank you for your courtesy and wariness.
Withheld for sanity's sake <>
USA - Sunday, August 04, 2002 at 15:00:22 (EDT)
As a first-time visitor to the House of Clocks, I was particularly .. held .. by some of the more unusual
clocks. As a left-handed woman, the counter-clockwise hall was of particular attraction, although by no means
the most alarming exhibit.

Although I did not linger among the sundials, there was one worth lingering over for the sense truth within the
simplicity of it's sentiment.

Grata superveniet quae non sperabitur hora.
Thou mayest yet be glad of Death.

One cannot help, in the Shambles, feeling that many of the Shambles' current occupants only wish that
the matter was quite so straightforward.

Ceara the Sinister <>
Ottawa, ON Canada - Sunday, August 04, 2002 at 13:49:47 (EDT)
A Warning to Travellers.

In their otherwise excellent little guide-book, Mssrs. W. & G. failed to mention a fact of the utmost importance to any tourist wishing to pass a pleasant day in the House of Clocks.
Those sirs may, perhaps, be excused on grounds of their ignorance. However, as an upstanding citizen of the Shambles and a union organiser for the International Brotherhood of Late Meatworkers, I cannot, in good conscience, let the matter rest.
After closing-time, do not dawdle in the Shop, the House itself, or any of its environs, for any reason whatsoever. If someone accosts you on the sundial walk and asks for a moment of your time, do not respond.

Gamaliel R. Devon II
Chicago, IL USA - Friday, August 02, 2002 at 18:39:17 (EDT)
A good friend of mine recommended I stop by your establishment if I'm ever in Chicago, and I thought I'd have a look at the site to get an idea of what you're all about. Looks great.
Perhaps you can help me though. The last time I heard from my friend was by cell phone just before she entered the House of Clocks. This was 3 years ago. Is she perhaps still there, as no one has heard from her since.

Can't wait to visit.

Tom Miller <>
Oakville, ON Canada - Thursday, July 25, 2002 at 16:25:52 (EDT)
Re: The clock that continues chiming

Reforge the pendulum from cold iron. Replace, and turn the clock back to the time displayed when it was first wound. Open the drawer in the back of the clock which has now been revealed, and follow the instructions inside. Resist the temptation to substitute pig's blood. The results will be most unsatisfactory.

Toronto, Canada - Thursday, July 18, 2002 at 18:25:46 (EDT)
Very much enjoyed this, my second journey to the HoC. New visitors may be advised to watch out for the band, which consists entirely of sisters of the OffMoon, and can thankfully only be heard every fourth leap year, between 2 and 5 am, Eastern Time. Should you be friendily accosted by a maiden in the blossom of her youth, or offered cookies by a matronly woman who slyly offers to show you her witch watch if you would but come see the band, you who treasure your eardrums are urged to firmly, but politely refuse.>^,,^<
New Orleans, LA USA - Friday, July 12, 2002 at 15:03:23 (EDT)
This being my first visit to the site and my third visit (the first in the early 1800's, the second not more than three weeks ago, and the third not to occur for another sixty years, immediately following the Lunar Riots), I must say that as a weary traveller, the site of familar oddities brings a sense of warm comfort over my old heart. I was especially overjoyed to find a clock which had been my father's not only on display, but pictured right on the site. This is a delight, but also a curiosity, as I am fairly certain the clock has since moved on from Earth, but it is comforting to know that I - or one of my family - will be back some day (or, has been back already) to donate it.


Lazarus Long (Woodrow Wilson Smith) <>
- Wednesday, July 10, 2002 at 16:49:33 (EDT)
I stopped the pendulum, removed it, and had it burned as you instructed. The key has been hidden from the servants and the weights have been allowed to run down as recommended.

And yet it still continues to chime, hour after hour.

Please advise.

Chicago, IL USA - Wednesday, July 10, 2002 at 16:40:49 (EDT)
After visiting your...interesting shop, I have detected a man getting into and out of an antique grandfather clock that appears to be following me around. The clock is never in the same place twice, so I thought this might have something to do with your establishment. What should I do?

James D'Amadan <>
Dallas, Tx USA - Wednesday, July 10, 2002 at 02:27:34 (EDT)
In about three weeks I will have visited the House of Clocks, at which point, after attempting to visit the L'Horloge D'Or of Marie Antoinette, I will have noticed that my own watch is running backwards. Further inspection will reveal that, in fact, time itself has begun to run backwards for me, and that I appear to be living backwards in time. Do you know of any way to correct this malady, and, if so, will you please attempt to inform me of it a few days ago, or, alternatively, advise me to not look at the L'Horloge D'Or of Marie Antoinette at the time of my visit in three weeks.

Also, on my "Hours of Your Life" chart, it indicates that I will be dying several hundred years ago, trapped in the Crystal Caves. Do you know where these caves are, so that I can have avoided them at the appropriate time?

C. Philip Sandifer <>
Newtown, CT USA - Wednesday, July 03, 2002 at 20:13:54 (EDT)
I had a very. . . pleasant. . . visit to the House of Clocks. I look forward to being able to re. . . live the experience when the descriptions of the clocks all appear on this website.
Charles Dexter Ward <>
Arkham, MA USA - Monday, July 01, 2002 at 11:48:23 (EDT)
As a representative (unelected) of the International Brotherhood of Meat Workers, I feel it vital to point out that the book, A Walking Tour of the Shambles (hereafter "the Book"), mentioned on this site, has been condemned by all reputable authorities, and should not be read.

As for craving raw meat, might we point out how healthy a condition this is? Meat made this country what it is today, and, of course, vice versa.

Embrace the meat. Spurn and eschew the wormwood.

Eustace Pottage
USA - Wednesday, May 22, 2002 at 11:16:06 (EDT)
To: The Unfortunate Person bitten by the fly.

I would suggest drinking large quantities of an infusion of garlic and wormwood
as soon as possible. The taste of the wormwood may be entirely disguised with quantities of absinthe,
still readily available in the Shambles. (Contact one of the Swan Boatmen and ask for Harriet.
Be sure to do this prior to seven P.M., which is Harriet's dinnertime.)

If you have already developed an incapacitating allergy to wormwood, it is, of course, too late.

Rush-That-Speaks <>
Bryn Mawr, PA USA - Wednesday, May 15, 2002 at 14:23:00 (EDT)
I had a lovely time in The Shambles, and particularly enjoyed my visit to the House of Clocks.

However, while I was trying to get down the hall to view the L'Horloge D'Or, a large fly bit me on the back of my neck. I believe the fly came from the Meat Clock, but cannot be certain.

At any rate, a hard swelling has formed at the site of the bite, and I have had a fever and have felt really "off" ever since. I sometimes awake to find myself levitating, and I have developed a strange appetite for raw meat.

My doctor doesn't know what to make of it. Can you advise?

Arlen Taylor <>
Cedar Hill, OH USA - Monday, May 13, 2002 at 16:43:23 (EDT)
Quite nice, especialy like the art deco, umm stains on the sidewalk outside.

Couldn't get a ticket though, must have been not on time.

Duluth, MN USA - Wednesday, March 13, 2002 at 22:42:37 (EST)
I went to Meat Street in Chicago, and wandered up and down it, looking for #12. There were many houses with clocks (I know, because I looked in the windows), but I could not find #12. I couldn't even find "Old Street" as the directions posted on the web instruct. I was trying to follow the directions in my copy of "Frommer's guide to Chicago." Are these incorrect? Are there two "Meat Streets?" I'm afraid I gave up after the second mugging. Please advise.
Jocelyn <>
USA - Thursday, March 07, 2002 at 23:37:41 (EST)
*g* my compliments (and love) to the webmistress. *smooch*
New York, NY USA - Thursday, March 07, 2002 at 14:01:04 (EST)
A marvellous teaser to one of my favourite hidden Chicago treats. As a child growing up in the Shambles, well do I remember the long hours spent with nose pressed against the bulletproof display glass of the famous B.S. Johnson Miracle Phlogistonic Timepiece, or the Vorrutyer Sundial, perhaps the only sundial in the Western Hemisphere to also provide a detailed phrenological analysis of its owners.
Cambridge, MA USA - Wednesday, March 06, 2002 at 15:07:18 (EST)
Lovely website. Had heard about this attraction from a mad Englishman--now looking forward to visiting, if I can just survive, um, er, find the Shambles....
Mary Roane <>
Chicago, IL USA - Tuesday, March 05, 2002 at 01:08:22 (EST)
This is a test of our new guestbook.
The Webmistress
USA - Sunday, March 03, 2002 at 20:09:30 (EST)
Dear god, please save me.
USA - Sunday, March 03, 2002 at 20:02:39 (EST)

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