Once upon a midnight dreary in the odd town of Whistleville, where whispers brewed quite eerily. Now, Whistleville was no ordinary town, it was filled to the brim with peculiarities that would make any mortal frown. But its most mysterious resident was an antique clock that stood solemnly in the town square, it was said to be inhabited by a prankster spirit called Fredrick McScare.
Fredrick had a quirk, on the stroke of midnight on Halloween, awake he would jerk. With a mischievous chuckle and a wink of the moon, he’d scramble time in a catchy swing tune.
So came Halloween, and Whistleville stood in slumber, unaware of Fredrick’s plot, the twist of time’s number. Midnight struck, pumping the heart of the night, the clock’s hands whirring in inhuman delight.
Whistleville woke to a peculiar sight. Morning met moonlight, the hours all affright. Tea-time at sunrise, lunch under stars, bedtime at noon, the day was a farce!
Spiralling time kept spinning till the dawn of the new day, but here’s the real shocker which Fredrick in his wisdom did not allay. The day after Halloween in Whistleville never arrived, for poor folks, it was ever Halloween, their normality deprived!