They call it a Clock Witch.

A gluttonous little creature that burrows into the brassy depths of gears, cogs and springs, nibbling away at all measures of time. A Clock Witch, they say, is the reason your ten-minute snooze rings in ten seconds. It’s the reason the morning hours pass quicker before work or school and the hours during work or school seem to drag on for days. According to Newt Scamander’s Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them, the mundane hours of a witch or wizard’s life are the most unfavorable in both taste and satisfaction. A Clock Witch prefers only the finest of hours, the most scrumptious of minutes and savory of seconds. These are unfortunately, and more often than not, the most important.

I’d never heard of a Clock Witch before. 

Until now, I had always assumed that time was just time and there was nothing more mischievous and gluttonous than time itself. Nights spent mulling over my new discovery were quick to prove me wrong and after lapping up the dusty words of old books that had been touched by nothing but time (inhaling a grimy cloud or two and pausing only to let pass a fit of coughs and hacks), I decided I’d meet a Clock Witch for myself.

The process of extracting a Clock Witch from a clock would be a delicate one, of that I had no doubt. But I figured I’d read enough pointless manuals and various How-To's to handle the situation. There was bound to be a tidbit of clock-picking skills stored somewhere in my mind's waste bin of useless information, not so useless now that I'd found a use. Of course I could have cast a few spells, muttered a few charms. But that would have been too easy. Aside of meeting the Clock Witch, I intended to catch it and like catching any other pest, one can never expect such a task to be simple.

So much for pointless manuals and various How-To's. 

Instead, I found my clock-picking skills through Disney's 1951 adaptation of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. Like the Mad Hatter, I sat determined. Fork in one hand and a timepiece in the other, I pried all four prongs between the brass seam and pulled.

Tick. Pop. Spring!

Gears flew, screws spun. An impish laugh rose from the still ticking heart, a small burst of cold air hitting my cheek in its escape. I stared down at the dissected apparatus, my own muddy reflection staring back from the rusted clockwork. 

Empty.

I checked the time on the intact and well functioning wall clock above my desk. 10:37 PM. In the hours I'd spent searching for this pest of prime, I'd missed study hall, two exams, and a much anticipated chess game with a friend.

They call it a Clock Witch.

A Clock Witch prefers only the finest of hours, the most scrumptious of minutes and savory of seconds. And these are unfortunately, and more often than not, the most important.

I felt my heart freeze 

     and fell to my knees

Standing before me 

     as tall as the trees

Guardian of fates, 

     of the Underworld's gates

A grant to my wish, 

     the God Anubis

He reached down and took my hand

     Beckoning me to stand

Deep in his throat 

      a distant thunder

He was laughing 

      at my wonder

My desire was only 

      half fulfilled yet

I looked around for 

      my Goddess Bastet.

The creature looked like it had galloped straight out of Narnia, through my wardrobe, and into the living room. I stood and stared at it, unable to comprehend the nature of its very existence. The only word that came to mind as I looked at it was ‘Centaur’. Half-human, half-horse, what else would you call it?

        “Is that-”, I gulped, “Is that a costume?” the thing didn’t respond. I flinched as its ears twitched and it stamped a hoof. I observed its waving tail and decided that this was no costume. After studying it I realised it was quite obviously a he. His human anatomy looked male in any case. His chestnut brown coat just looked mangled, like it needed a thorough brushing. I licked my lips nervously.

        “Do you understand me? Do you speak?” I asked him, simultaneously wondering if I had finally lost grip of my sanity. His eyes fell upon me for the first time.

        “Of course I speak.” His voice was deep, rumbling, like an earthquake bringing on the destruction of my world as I knew it. I hid my face in my hands and took in a deep breath. Removing my hands I looked up at him, taking in his large stately figure, his lank black hair, his brown eyes, his elvish ears and finally looking at his muscularly built horse body.

        “What are you?” I asked. To my surprise his nostrils flared in what I could only interpret as anger, or perhaps indigence.

        “Did you ever consider that it might be more polite to ask who I am?” He responded rhetorically. He was most definitely feeling affronted. Interesting, it had emotions.

        “Well… who are you?” I asked rather abashedly, ashamed of my poor manners. In my own defense I never thought I needed to study the etiquette of centaurs.

         “Who are you?” He demanded, still sounding rather offended. Fantastic, he had sass.

        “My name’s Isaac. What’s yours?” I said, going over to my sofa and taking a seat, worried my legs would give way. He then folded his legs and lay down too.

       “I was never given a name." He said softly. "But I have always liked the name Dominic. Could you call me that?" I looked at him wide-eyed.

        "Yeah. Sure. Of course. Why-" I licked my lips, "Why don't you have a name? And what are you doing in my home?" I asked.

         "I was never given one. The scientists who raised me only gave me a number. You see I am the result of some kind of mutation. Some sort of experiment. I don't understand how it works and I don't care to. As for how this day brought me to your humble abode... A woman named Sarah left me here. She said the person who lived here, you, wouldn't be home for a while and I'd be safe here." Dominic answered. Alternating waves of pity and confusion washed over me. "She took me from that place, saved me really." he continued, fondness in his voice.

Of course she would have. I had no idea how or when or where. But I could understand why. I sighed. If I hadn't had to come home early from my trip, I'd never have known about this. I dialed Sarah's number.