The world looked so small from up there. Like an ant village, with its inhabitants endlessly scurrying about. It was the most beautiful thing I knew.

Then again, I didn’t know of much. How could I? I had been locked in our town’s clocktower for most of my life. It just goes to prove the extreme cruelty authority is capable of.

But for now I digress.

When I wasn’t chiming the bells on the hour, I was gazing longingly out the clockface’s window into the outside world. Physically I was in a tower prison, but my imagination took wing into the city streets below. I envisioned the vivid colors, scents whafted into the dark tower. As much I dispised being imprisoned, these figments of my imagination gave me hope that someday I would be free. I didn’t know how it would happen, but I knew it would happen somehow, someday.

I had no idea how soon it would happen, and who my “savior” would be.