Danny Yates Must Die. Stephen Walker
Stretching on tiptoes, he removed clock from wall, turned its hands forward fifty-nine minutes, then took it to the door. He pointed clock at frame then, confident it would be unharmed, waited.
Tick tick tick tick …
The bird burst from its hidey hole, gave one proud, ‘Cuck –’ and disintegrated.
Clunk, Danny threw the twisted thing-that-was-once-a-clock out onto the street, hoping someone would steal it. They would have done back at his old home.
He slammed the door shut, having not seen any shady characters in the moment it was open. Like the police, shady characters were rarely around when you needed them.
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