Clock Rewind Novels & Stories

“Why do you want to talk about what happened five years ago? Is it for you to have closure and finally—” “Because I want to claim you back, Milan!” My eyes widened. “W-what?” He sighed and stopped the car at the side of the road then he faced me. “I want you to know everything that happened in the past, Milan. I want you to know that I never stop loving you and it is not your fault why those things happened in our marriage.” “Enver…” I don’t know what to say. I mean, I love him and I am sure of that. But I don’t really have any plans on coming back with him.

He took his chip and looked in sorrow. “We can’t able to stop him. He's going on time. Now what will happen?” I asked Chris hopelessly. “Everything’s going to change. We will go backwards in time. It’s not the time machine you have seen in tv shows. It has far worse consequences. We all will be late 18th century or 19th century. The worst part is no one will remember anyone." “Unbelievable. how can I forget you and Maddy, Alex?"

I asked. "Desire. It is their nature turn back the time," she answered. "It is the the second time that the world revolved backwards. The first reversed was 300 years ago, the Paradis end." I froze. "What, how could that be?" I murmured. "There's no way... " "There are questions that you must answer yourself. Since you're in a different case, you're not the holder and yet you can still remember everything that happened." The curtains moved and I saw her eyes peeks, that golden eyes were like a glitter of peace.

That was the consequences of fighting against the curse of her dreams. Then on her dimensional pocket, Georgia took the key of time, the white key. "Let the time be rewind, re: begin!" She chanted the verse. Then Georgia on her place saw the time fast backward a hundred times. There she saw Ole adventuring, killing monsters and having time with her friends and till she came back to the time where she was crowned.

The Station Master led us to a recessed alcove carved into the stone behind the clockwork core. On a wooden table sat a device that belonged in a museum: an early 200-level audio history textbook come to life—an original Edison wax-cylinder phonograph, its brass horn gleaming faintly in the yellow lantern light.

December, 2009 Christmas music blared from the speakers strategically placed around the ice skating rink. No matter where one was skating--or in Memory Wilson’s case—falling, the festive sounds serenaded the perfect pirouette—or wipe out, as the case may be. Though her friends had been patient and tried to teach her, Memory was sure she’d just never get the hang of it. She’d come to the mall to buy a few last minute presents, not bust her behind on the ice, so she decided to watch from a nearby bench as Kathryn Rodgers and Rebekkah Stephens had fun whizzing past like naturals. Despite the ache in her hip, Memory laughed as they twirled each other around like ballerinas. Twisting her fingers

"After testing everything about how time worked, he came back and hypnotised his cousin so he wouldn't speak of it—" This left Anderson laughing hard. "The hypnotism was from what, a clock?" he asked. "Sort of, but a high-tech wristwatch from the future as well." He nodded, then looked down at his plate; he was already done with the Roast, so he washed his hands in a nearby bowl of water, then drank the remaining of the juice he was served. Next he wiped his hands. Meanwhile, Hanson was saying:

“Woman, you better watch your mouth! Do you believe I will pull out your tongue if you dare to speak rudely again? “You know what? It’s difficult for me to look for a punching bag, but now, you are of great help.” “What do you mean?” “It means you will go to hell!” A few short sentences came out of the Rewinding Pearl. That’s right. Not only could the Rewinding Pearl display images, but it could even play audio. The only flaw was that the voices coming out of it were slightly distorted.

The pendulum, which had swung with a rhythmic, reassuring heartbeat for generations, stopped dead in the center. "It's happening," Devashish whispered, his voice barely cutting through the thick silence. He stepped closer to the corner, his eyes reflecting the pale moonlight filtering through the tall glass windows. The clock's hands, previously aligned perfectly at twelve, began to move backward with terrifying speed. Eleven. Ten. Nine. They whirled past the Roman numerals until they snapped violently back to the top. But the ticking did not resume. Instead, a hidden latch hidden behind the carved wooden crown of the clock released with a dull thud.

"I'll be back next week to take a look." I hung up the phone and looked at the wine glass in my hand. The red wine swirled gently in the glass, like liquid ruby. "To freedom." I said softly. Then I drank it all down. (End)