Lil the Nile

The two hands of the clock froze at a quarter to three. Rooted in place. You wiped the dusty glass with a rag, wiping away the reflection of your own face. In your place, a blur.

There's a hum downstairs in the hall. Nila is receiving guests. And your job is to sit here, on the mezzanine, and watch the clock. Not to see it running. To see it standing still.

An hour later, you heard your boss's voice as he came up the stairs. Ingratiating, like the rustle of silk on steel. Security remains downstairs. He always comes to you alone.

"How's my treasure?" he asks, nodding at the massive frame. He doesn't look. He never does. He's afraid.

"The dust settles, boss," you replied.

Neil approaches the window. He looks out at the city he holds in fear. A perfect profile. Not a single wrinkle. Not a single gray hair, only thick, red, slightly disheveled. He's over a hundred, but looks twenty-something. About eighty years ago, he found this clock in the ruins of an old temple. He learned the secret and stopped the clock, desiring eternal power, life, and it obeyed. It absorbed his time, freezing the flow of his life. The only price is that it must stand. Forever.

"I need your loyalty," Neil says without turning around. "There are some rats in my circle again."

"I'm just guarding, boss." You shrugged. "The clock isn't ticking. All is quiet."

"Guarding them? And rumor has it you want to start one yourself..." Neil pulled out a bladed weapon that shimmered in the lamplight.