Nela entered her grandmother's attic, carrying a torch and curiosity. Dust danced in the light like silver rain and the boards creaked. Rows of boxes looked up at her like a silent audience. "I'll just have a peek and then I'll be back," she muttered, correcting the rubber band from her ponytail. Then the cuckoo clock coughed and said: "Late, darling." Nela all the way squatted on the heavy box. Her heart thudded louder than in P.E.. "Who is it?" she asked, lowering her voice. "Us," rustled the fan. "The whole company," rumbled the old drum. The torch stopped on a small wooden box with a brass lock. The lid was engraved with a star and the letter N, like her name. "Don't open it by any means," advised the fringed pencil case thinly. "Listen to the map first." The folded map unrolled itself and whispered: "Three turns to the right, one to the left, and tap." "Tap, but lightly," the porcelain elephant added. Nela knelt by the box. Her fingers trembled slightly, but her curiosity trembled harder. She made three turns to the right, one to the left, and tapped. The box vibrated, and the lock purred: "At last." The clock began counting backwards, as if learning to go backwards. "Ten... nine... eight..." The lamp flicked on, as if winking at her. "Careful, child," the broom said, rearranging itself with a clatter. The map glowed and showed a luminous dot by the door. The dot moved towards Nela, faster and faster and more confidently. The handle rattled and whispered directly into her hand: "The alarm clock keeper is back." The lock on the box clicked, the lid lifted a hair, and cool, night-scented air blew from inside. Nela held her breath as a quiet, determined knock sounded just outside the door.