I started to question who would have gone up there and for what purpose. Is it a student? A teacher? Someone who didn’t work or go to school here? Whoever it was, how could they have gotten up there? As I climbed, I was reminded how difficult it is to get up into the tower. First, you’d have to somehow sneak into the building without anyone noticing you, along with having a key to the door that leads to a hallway. It was under construction at the time, but there was a door that led to a museum that was once open to the public. I’m pretty sure it’s still closed and is now derelict. I hadn’t gone up there in a long time, and it was as creepy as it was gross. The wooden floorboards covered in dust creaked with each step I took. It reminded me how alone I was, yet I never felt alone. There was a bunch of rat shit all over the floor that left a stench, there was a painting of an indigenous person that I thought was real at first, and I thought there was a bat hanging from the ceiling, but I don’t remember for sure if it was or just old wires. If you can make it up to the attic of the floor, stomaching the smell, you’ll end up in the brick-walled tower. Then, you have to climb two steep flights of wooden stairs and a narrow ladder. With each step, I felt any minute the wood would snap beneath me, and I’d fall. I eventually made it up to the top of the clock tower, but there was a trap door I had to open. My heart was racing at this point. I saw no one at all on my way up to the clock tower (or at least I think I saw no one), so that means whoever I saw was still up there. It was a heavy door to open with one hand, so I had to attempt it with two hands without slipping off the ladder. I had to be quick, however, as this person up here had the upper hand. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to quickly open the trap door and find out who was up there. So, with a quick push, it opened and I quickly got up.
There was no one up there. One hand holding my pistol, the other pulling my flashlight out of my mouth to shine around, yet there wasn’t anyone. I checked each corner of the tower, where someone could have ducked in and hidden, but there was no one. There was a dead bird in the northeastern corner, which explained the rotten smell. I started to wonder, what made that noise? Perhaps a brick just fell, but how? It’s very windy up there, but there’s no way it was powerful enough to make a brick fall. And what was that shadowy figure that I saw? Was I going crazy? I was lost in my mind trying to deduce what happened, but suddenly,
GONG!!!!!
I had completely forgotten about the bell going off every hour, and it was midnight now. 12 gongs of the bell. It didn’t last very long, but it felt like an eternity. Even though the bell wasn’t very large, it was loud. I dropped my flashlight and gun to cover my ears. I was panicking. By the sixth ring of the bell, all I wanted was to get down from there and get back on the ground. In a way, my question was technically answered. Around the eighth ring, I looked into the corner where the dead bird was in, and there was a glowing red light. I had no idea what it was, but I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. I backed away as quickly as I could, but I had forgotten how small it was up there. Before I knew it, I was backed against the railing of the clock tower. I turned around, realizing what I was against, but before I could turn back, something pushed my back. I could feel the world flowing right past the side of my body as I fell from the clock tower. I could hear the twelfth ring of the bell as soon as I crashed onto the steps in front of Davis, rolling down, painting the steps dark red. That was my last night working as a security guard.
The Mews 
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