>You are Anonymous.
>In the prime of your life, no less.
>You've made quite a nice life too, if you say so yourself.
>Sitting on a PhD, a well paying job, and a sizable place, there's nothing you could complain about.
>After a long shift, you were at home mindlessly browsing the internet with a beer in hand.
>An old friend has been chatting with you, and mentions a couple of his buddies found a geocache "With like, a thousand dollars, dude"
>He and you did a lot of geocaching before moving away from home. Deciding nothing else too eventful was going to happen that night, you asked for the coordinates.
>It was close, too. No more than a half hour drive away.
>Grabbing a shovel, GPS, and your car keys, you head out.
 
>It took a bit to find exactly where the GPS was taking you.
>Turns out the coordinates were smack dab in the middle of a forest, and you had to walk the last bit.
>You curse at yourself for not bringing a flashlight, but at least your phone had a decent one on it.
>After a bit of wandering, and tripping over nothing, you reach the coordinates.
>It's a small clearing, and it looks like there was a fire here recently.
>You start looking around, and find a painted rock sitting up against one of the many trees.
>Grabbing it and putting it aside, it turns out whoever put this here didn't bury it.
>That was a bonus. It always irritated you when they were buried.
>Grabbing the box, you carefully open it up.
>Could there really be money in here?
>The most you've ever found is a few silver coins.
>Opening the box reveals something covered in newspaper, which you promptly take out.
>It's...
>A clock.
>An old one, at that.
>The wood looks like it could be a hundred years old. The glass covering its face is stained, and appears to be broken in a few places.
>Looking at the back there's no battery compartment, or any sort of opening to access the inside of it.
>Amazingly enough, it seems to still be working.
>With a faint tick, the second hand continues to keep a track of the time.
>It seems to be off though, as your phone reads 11 and the clock reads 6 AM.
>With a shrug, you gently put it back and head out of the forest and to your car.
 
>Apon arriving home, you took a shower, and threw on light PJs.
>After another couple beers and a few videos to numb your skull, you headed to your room.
>Deciding you'd see if you could repair the clock in the morning, you put it on your nightstand before crawling into bed.
>With a yawn and a stretch, you fell asleep shortly after.
>That is, you would've if the clock didn't start making noises.
>They were soft, at first. Almost like a few of the gears fell out of place.
>You roll over and turn on the lamp.
>It seems fine, from what you can tell. The second hand continues on, now reading just before 8 AM.
>You turn the light off, and close your eyes once more.
>Until the clock starts to chime.
>You were almost asleep this time, too.
>You sit up in bed, sighing and picking up the clock to find an off switch or something.
>Finshing the chime, it goes through the last few for every hour.
>Ding....Ding....
>You put the clock back down in defeat, and lay back down.
>Ding...Ding...Ding...
>You close your eyes, and hope once the chime finishes you'll be able to finally sleep.
>Ding...Ding...
>Maybe tomorrow you'll fake sick and enjoy a day off.
>Ding...