she looked at the clock, the huge grandfather clock that had stood in the hallway for as long as she could remember. it had marked the constant motion of time, the changes that had come, her best and worst moments. time had moved on, but the clock had never stopped its steady ticking.
today, though, the clock had stopped. she watched as her father tried to get the pendulum to swing again. it started, but then slowly ceased to move. the clock was broken, frozen at this moment in time. it would always show the time that she had left her childhood home, perhaps forever. the old clock had stopped ticking as if to mourn her departure. as a girl, she had hidden in the back of the grandfather clock while playing hide-and-go-seek with her cousins. when summer flowers bloomed in the meadow, she had made daisy crowns to adorn its tall mahogany frame. its soothing rhythm had sung her to sleep every night of her childhood.
now, it was broken, and she was leaving. the old clock would never again be her hiding place; she would never again pick flowers in the meadow; it would never again sing her to sleep. she was leaving it behind, frozen in time.
a journal entry in english class about the prompt "a broken clock".