Sleep is a long time coming, but when you are finally drawn into its ellysian embrace, your dreams give you no surcease. Four girls spin before your eyes, seeing the 'combat' again, this time over the shoulders of the girls, once each. Silver skirts and dark hair bundled in a high ponytail dominate the imagess. Occassionally you think you catch a glimpse of a fifth girl, shadowy and hidden, her features vague, yet with that unnatural dreamlike quality of being intimately familiar.

You wake - or think you wake - not at all refreshed, to the sounds of movement in your room. Standing over the foot of your bed is something that can only be akin to the 'monster' the girls fought before -- an anthropomorphic grandfather clock with lobster claws. Before you can so much as even react, it wraps you up in your blanket and carries you, struggling, out into the night. You lose track of time, both dizzy and dealing with the unpleasant intermingled scents of old wood and rotten fish.