(Continuation of Among the roses)
" You walk in the room, It's quite a small room. With one window, on the sill sits a rock and a lone key. You decide to take both with you. All the bottles have something inside them. 'Old newspaper clippings? Who and why would someone stuff bottles with old headlines?' The blue and gold bottle has another note, somehow even harder to read. 'The clock chimes at eight. Yet, it hasn't ticked, thus it will never chime.' You remember the beloved cuckoo clock that broke years back. You leave the room and go to the clock, still on the wall, as motionless as the day it broke. You pull on one of the weights, The clock chimes twice. 'bing, bing' and goes dormant once again. A note falls on the floor. To your horror, the grease from the clock gears have made the note the hardest to read yet! "
T͘͜͞h͟e̷̶̴͢͝ ̷̴͠s̡͢ǫ̸͘ǹ̕g̵̷͠ ̧͏҉̴̨o̴n̷̶̕͘e̷͟͟͞ ̷̡̧̡̢s̡i͟͡n̡͠ǵ́҉s̴̨
̶̵̢̕͞į̴͏͏n҉̶͜͟͞ ̨͠t̶̵́͞͡h̢̨̕͜͢è̵҉ ̵̨͟͜p͠͠l̀̕͘͢a̴͠͠c̢e͢҉́͟ ̸ý̷̨ò̸̡̀͠u̷͡ ̨̛̀͟ļ͘͢o͘͢͟͝v̡̢̨̕e̵͢d̡̧
̸̸̴͜w͡͠h͞͞e̵͟r͏̵͘͝ę̴̢͘͟ ̨̢́͟n̸͠҉̡o̶̶ ̡́ơ̵͠n҉̢͝e͏̨̛͜͡ ̴̧s̸̨͘͢é̸̕͝ȩ̴́͝s͡҉̶̴
̛͟͝͞h̵̨͏i̸͘͜͜͠ḑ̨̨͝e̛̕͠s̸͡ ̵̴͘͢t͏̸̀͘͟h̸́̕e̡ ͘͡p̛̛͜͏̢r̵̷͠͞i̵҉ź̵̧͘e̸̴̶̛