Something I wrote after a late night, pondering the 10,000 year clock, and after reading some rather enjoyable stories.
The wind howls, sweeping the dust from the mountain tomb, drowning the deliberate ticks that echo under a million tons of rock.
Tick; another barely perceptible mechanical movement, unseen in the all-encompassing darkness as the clock slices eternity with each ponderous pendulum swing.
Tick; the metal monstrosity, safe from the ravages of the very time it pares moments from, waits…
Tick; the chimes ring, their sweet melody lost in the scream of the wind, with no-one to hear them in a world that has forgotten.