Clockwork Doll Novels & Stories

The wolves panicked, falling back into defensive positions, their claws extending as their shifting instincts took over. "They're through!" Silas yelled, drawing his weapon. The steel door didn't slide open; it was imploded outward. A shockwave of hot air and silver dust threw us to the ground. Through the smoke, the clockwork child walked. It looked exactly like me at ten years old, with the same amber eyes and dark hair, but its skin was a seamless, polished porcelain that reflected the firelight. It held the obsidian shard in its left hand, the dark stone humming with a faint, violet light.

He was becoming the young, haunted soldier I had met in the freezing winds of the North ten years ago. "The Clock!" Philip yelled. His voice was the only thing that sounded the same, perhaps because his blindness made him a fixed point in a world of shifting light. "Elara, the Clock of First Causes is erasing the present to pay for the past! If it reaches the Day of the Fall, the 'New Buyer' can change the outcome! We will never have met! The children will never have been born!" We ran into the Great Hall. The air inside was thick as honey, vibrating with a deep, rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum.

Daniel's boss, George Harrison, lived in a huge mansion. Daniel gently knocked on the door. "Mr. Harrison, I brought you a toy." George opened the door and warmly invited Daniel inside. Daniel placed the box in the middle of the living area and opened it. There I was, lying in a thin nurse outfit. The soft fabric hinted at my figure, and flowers were arranged around me, making the whole scene look strangely beautiful. "This is the newest technology from Jippongo. You've got to try the mouth. The tongue wraps around you like a snake. I guarantee you'll have a great time," Daniel introduced.

Still, her joint dwelled in ache and her body loosened weakly that going to the kitchen seem to be an accomplishment. Just as she stepped out of her room, the grandfather stand clock on the clock wall caught her attention. The floral clock’s pointer is immobilized. It was her father’s– at least 8 feet tall, it strikes aloud every hour to resonate through the house but Sarah has muted it. It was an antique handmade clock with intricate carving resembling a lion’s feet and head on all 4 corners and a glass door at the bottom of the clock, weighing at least 120 kg. She needs a 4 feet ladder to comfortably wind the clock but since she was very tired, she reached for a ½ feet stool nearby, tip to

It would make Ellis really mad, but it didn’t sound like they were planning to stay around, after everything. The clock clicked open, making me flinch and the baby move. I nearly cried to feel her again but had to hold it together. If we were going to get out of the attic, it was down to me. I did my best to calm her down. With a long, low creak, the trap door lifted. Light from the first-floor coming in. Peeking to see who it was, I recognized Carl’s watch. The Rolex I’d given him during our first Christmas together. I was surprised to see he still had it after all of these years.

It was a mansion with a large black clock at the top, embedded with black diamonds. As I gazed at the clock, I found something different about it. "That clock doesn't work like other clocks. It's a spell clock. When I told you that you would go through twenty minutes of pain, I mentioned those 20 minutes of that clock," Rihana said, and I didn't have a good feeling about it. "Wait. How does this clock calculate time?" I asked.

So much more important than thread and stuffing and glass eyes, wrapped in a half-torn dress. I still feel bad about that doll. The one I saved from a hooker name. A doll I carried around with me for years, and now remember only in flashes. Bare, bright impressions, like seeing something through burned retinas. Seared over everything in a glowing silhouette. The same as Loki. I barely met Loki, but when I remember him it’s with a sick stirring so deep and violent it’s like there’s a clawed hand rammed down my throat. Churning my guts around. Turning my insides into so much fine flesh confetti.

Jax roared, growing to twice hzis size, his sapphire fur erupting into a mane of blue fire as he tore into the Null sentries. Sarah stood over me, her golden light creating a dome that shattered the shadow-spears as they struck. "Hurry, Elara! The anvil is getting hotter! I can't hold the souls much longer!" I entered the **Clockwork**. It was a world of infinite, grinding mathematics. I saw the strings of data that connected Silas to the Forge. They were like silver umbilical cords, feeding him the "logic" of the Nulls and draining his humanity.

Its vacant chime rebounding off the high vaulted ceilings of my chambers. A clock I had made a long time ago. It was made during a time where I believed that death was nearing me. A young woman who I had loved dearly, who I believed loved me. But when she realised the depths of my depravity, she turned on me, just like the rest. The clock was enchanted to ring out when death was nearing. I had never heard the clock strike until this night. And now I knew that the reaper was, finally, knocking at my door.

Olivia, like a crazed animal, ripped up my job offer letter. I wanted to fight back, but then I caught a glimpse of the crimson numbers ticking down over her heart. Oh, it was almost her turn. Fine, I wouldn't argue with her anymore. Xavier sat there, silent as ever, busy texting his secretary, Yvette Snyder, the entire time. I went to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. The mirror reflected my dull hair and the glowing red countdown pulsing against my chest. I checked my own timer. As it turned out, I didn't have much longer than Olivia. We were both dying. For the first time ever, I felt a strange, inexplicable pity for the woman.