Clockwork Doll Novels & Stories

At the cabinet full of things I'd never seen before. I was a virgin. Twenty-three years old. The only sex I'd ever had was a blurry memory from high school graduation, the after-party, too much cheap vodka, a boy whose name I couldn't remember. I'd woken up the next morning with a headache and torn clothes and a vague sense that something had happened. I'd never been sure. I'd never wanted to be. But standing here, in this red room, with a man who called me Doll, I felt something I hadn't felt in years. A pull. A heat. A part of myself I'd locked away a long time ago.

What's wrong with me? I hear the clock ticking. It’s a cute little black clock with big white eyes, and the tail moves back and forth. The clock is a black cat; the eyes roll and the tail moves. As the clock ticks, its rhythmic sound seems to amplify the confusion and doubt swirling in her mind. She wonders if she will ever find someone who can ignite that same intense connection she had with Layla, regardless of their gender. The clock's playful resemblance to a black cat serves as a reminder of the mysterious and unpredictable nature of love and attraction.

And beneath it all, a new scent: the cold, dead-universe smell of mercury and silence. The workshop was ransacked. Tools scattered. Dimensional components shattered on the floor. And sitting in the center of the destruction, on his own workbench like a puppet with cut strings, was the Hollowsmith. The clockwork man's bronze body was cracked and tarnished. His mismatched glass eyes flickered, one red, one green, both dimming. His needle-thin fingers were broken, bent at impossible angles. "Ah," the Hollowsmith wheezed, his voice grinding like stripped gears. "The boy who broke the sky, come to break the clockmaker."

"That is a Cronus, a very powerful artifact. It is capable of manipulating time, but only for a few seconds." "How many?" "Thirty-seven. So let's hurry up and do what we have to do right away." He goes behind a tree and brings out the doll identical to Shandra. The girl has goosebumps when she sees that she is wearing some of her favorite pieces of clothing. "Now what?", she asks. "Now you die." Sam sets the doll upright in front of the car, scratches her chin, then adjusts the posture and position of the fake Shandra, folding her arms about the way the girl was a while ago.

She nodded to Sera, who tapped a specific sequence on the pedestal’s interface. Suddenly, the "stopped" clock didn't just restart; it transformed. The pedestal’s glass cleared, revealing that the "stopped" gears were merely a holographic projection—the "Ghost Pedestal" Elias had created. The real Medici clock was perfectly functional, its golden gears moving with a silent, mesmerizing fluidity.

“The hands are moving backward. Maybe we need to set them to the right moment.” Damon glanced at the numbers. “But what’s the right time?” Then, Naomi gasped. “Look at the floor.” Carved into the stone was a date: The day Elias was born. “That must be it!” Anna rushed forward, grabbing the clock’s hands, trying to move them. But as soon as she touched them— The clock tower trembled. Time unraveled. --- The Consequences of Time The group was split apart. Anna found herself in the past—watching her younger self play with her grandmother.

“No, no, no—” She wanted to tear the bond out of her own skin. She wanted to rip the mark from her throat. She wanted to be anywhere but here, dangling like a broken marionette, humiliated and ruined and still somehow burning inside. Burning in a way that didn’t feel like life, didn’t feel like power. Burning like a curse that refused to go quiet. The Devil’s broken doll. A thing posed and left, meant to be looked at, meant to be remembered.

Her finger then traced the rim of the cup. Round and round. A circular motion of her nerves. Tick. Tick. Tick. The old clock in the corridor was purchased from an auction in London by Grant. And the ticking of the clock had always been reassuring to her, but now it was as if the countdown of a bomb was ticking inside her.

Zinjo smiled at Aurelia, "Are you ready to disassemble the Clockwork guild?" Aurelia nodded, "Let's show these people the power of flesh and blood."

Asked Kohei, a black-winged creature serving the prince of the death. "Those gods pissed me off again. They want the women back." Sirius said in distaste as he lifted his palm and let the bluish marble that Hyun gave him floated mid-air. He looked at it with curiosity. "Isn't that a Pokh, milord?" Kohei asked. "I don't know what is this. That scorpion woman gave it to me." Sirius said, playing the marble with his hand. Kohei's eyes looked at the marble with renewed interest. This got Sirius's attention in him.