On that Friday evening, the fog shrouded the old town tightly. The black outlines of the Clock Tower loomed against the sky, and its clock had not made a sound for years. Alan, Lena and David, staring at their illuminated phone screens, stood under the iron gate. This challenge - to go inside, walk to the top and take a photo from inside the mechanism - seemed worth every stake. - Do we really have to? - Lena lowered her voice as if she was afraid something might hear her. - 'They say this clock stopped exactly when that girl went missing.... Thirty years ago. Alan just smiled defiantly. - Are you starting to believe in urban legends? It's just an old building. If you're scared, you can wait outside. A creaking wicket answered him. David pushed it open and moved first. They jumped over the moss-covered boulders and returned their gaze to the tower. The door was ajar, as if waiting just for them. The interior was cold and smelled of dust and iron. Their footsteps echoed up the spiral staircase. Each of them had the impression that some shadows were moving in the semi-darkness, though none of them dared to say so. The higher they climbed, the more the clock seemed to come alive - there were strange crackling sounds coming from the walls, and sometimes a quiet, nervous rustling, as if something was moving just behind their backs. Eventually they arrived in front of the last steel gate leading to the clock mechanism. - 'I'm opening,' whispered Alan and jerked the gate open. The metal creaked shrilly and a chill broke under their clothes. David was already about to turn on the flash when suddenly in the darkness.... Something moved right next to them. A shadow flitted between the rusty cogs of a clock. At the same instant, the hands of a clock that had been stopped for decades began to move rapidly forward, emitting a deafening, protracted beat. Horrified, they looked at each other as a pale, unearthly light began to seep from the windows at the top of the tower....