The Abondoned Clock

She stared at the remains of the old clock. It had once been a grand and beautiful thing. It's windows had been stained glass and iron.  The building was so tall and the face was so large you could see it clearly from any where in the city. At one time, it chimed out the hours in pleasing rings and peals. Now it sat silent. many of the windows had cracked and broken during the bombings. One of the clock hands had fallen off and had probably been sold as scrap. Many of the chimes and bells had gone missing, the ones that weren't too large for one or two to carry. Thankfully, the stairs that wound their way to the top had been made of metal. If they had been wood, they would have rotted and collapsed long ago. To most people, the prospect of living in an abandoned clock building was creepy and unsettling, so much silence where there should be noise. To her, even with the broken windows and dusty floors, it was home.