Slimy things with legs did crawl

The room was full of ticking clocks, each with its own rhythm and pace. A random, quiet cacophony. Different patterns drifting in and out of phase. After a while, she sensed a growing consensus amongst the timepieces as they gradually converged to a single beat. For a few seconds the army of clocks marched in time. Her own pulse had been press-ganged into the platoon and, with that realisation, her heart made a run for it and the army was in disarray. The marching boots had been replaced by a rolling wave of chasing feet. She pictured a gigantic, many-legged creature, all teeth and claws, pursuing her across an undulating terrain.

She relaxed.