Netta's Clock
I think this is quite sweet rather than creepy. It's definitely a bit odd.

Until I was four and we moved house, we used to live next door to a lovely old lady called Netta who was recently widowed and her only son had died young in the 60s.
My parents became very fond of her and used to go round to help out often, and continued to do so at least once a week until she finally passed away in a nursing home in 2001 at the age of 96.
In her will, she left my dad a carriage clock he had expressed admiration for on many occasions. Now this clock kept perfect time, but in the 23 years he had known Netta the clock had never once chimed. Netta had expressed bemusement but wasn't overly concerned.
My dad, orderly soul he is, had it down at jewellers, repairers and various friends who were handy with this sort of thing. Noone could find any reason why this clock didn't chime.
A few days after Netta's funeral my dad brough the clock hime and sat it on a window shelf at the bottome of the stairs. It promptly chimed. My dad looked at the time. 10 past 3. He looked at his watch. 10 past 3.
This has continued since. It will chime often the day myself or my brother will come home for a visit, or if some event is approaching.
It once chimed once a minute for ten minutes when my dad was home. The chime stopped as my mum, supported by her friend, arrived home ashen-faced, nursing a broken wrist.
It's a family tradition, being polite to say, "Hi Netta" to the clock whenever it chimes.

Make of it what you will. I have no idea what causes it, but it's one of life's little eccentricities that improve it slightly.
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Thu 3 Jul 2008, 18:34, Reply)