Grandfather clocks have always fascinated me. I hang on to the tick-tock of the needles, and anxiously wait for sundown. My partner, Jim will appear, when the clock strikes twelve. It is a New Moon tonight, and we will only have starlight to support us.
The shiny statue of the janitor, at the base of the staircase has one leg twisted. That is all that I could manage to do during the day. It was not an easy task, and the tip-off appears to be correct. There are bags of gold coins hidden inside the statue. The owner of the building is reported to be long dead, and the statue was dumped in the junkyard. It is not easy to carry the whole statue, or dismantle it. It has to be a neat job, done in parts, and with all the skill required not to raise an alarm. Jim, possesses the required expertise, so the plan is fail-proof.
I could not resist my curiosity to see what the bags look like, and how much did they weigh. Maybe I can ask Jim to carry suitable cases to transport them. Eeks … there was a creepy reptile crawling on my hand, and AAAARGHHH…
The clock struck twelve, and Jim beat a hasty retreat. He found his friend’s body covered with twelve deadly cobras. The statue was opened up, with the leg separated. The janitor had done its duty. It had not spent several decades there, in vain.
Jim froze in his tracks, with a serpent entwined around his leg. He could hear a deep, resonating voice, speaking in slow syllables, and he felt that the words took aeons to reach him.
“I have waited for a long time. Only the two of you were aware of where the treasure was hidden….”
Inspired by Thursday photo prompt #writephoto by Sue Vincent