In the between times I hide up in the belfry, among the dust and carcasses of minutes gone by. Every hour a cacophony of bells shakes another layer of time down from the rafters.
I like to watch the people in the churchyard below, wafting through the garden like soap bubbles, glittering and ephemeral.
In the bell tower, the seconds twitch on the floor, disorderly as insects scrabbling for shelter. I crush them, one by one, under my shoe, until they too are dust.
This post was written in response to the Trifecta Writing Challenge weekend prompt:
Write a response that is between 33 and 333 words long and uses the following words in this exact order: cacophony, soap, insects.