Clockwork Doll Novels & Stories

“The dial is enamelled with Roman numerals, and there is a trace of wear right here, I’ll give you that. Time can do that to even a marvelous tour de force…Just look at us, ha ha! “Look here. The dial is signed J. Béliard—the clockmaker’s signature, yes. One can tell just how much love and labor the artisan put into this. The pendulum right here…The rope is made of silk, and the bell is silver-plated bronze. God…” Barney sighed. “Simply beautiful. Come, my friend, hold out your hand. Feel it!” Barney sure made a great sales pitch, but Javier was not buying it. He shot another noncommittal look at the clock and suddenly felt an electrifying tinge of intrigue. The mantle! Something among the m

Research: “What are we doing here?” Nora asked as they stepped into the dusty old shop. “Research.” Jace answered as he approached the counter. Nora looked around, the store was filled with items she could have swore came from her grandmother's home. Old tea sets, dollies, vintage vase, and glasses. A large mirror hung next to an old grandfather clock. The clock began to ring out as the hour struck. Nora stepped away from Jace who was talking quietly to the store owner. The dongs from the clock memorized her. She found herself standing in front of the clock watching the pendulum bob swing back and forth. She glanced up at the time and tried to focus on it. It was fuzzy and she couldn't make

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.

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.

And though his state of surprise had faded, he was still very much interested in what he was seeing. “And this,” Cronos pointed at the clock in his chest before taking a small pause. “Well, you know what this is, don’t you?” Cronos smirked and Mane nodded his head. The grey clock that reeked of time and ticked several seconds into minutes and minutes into seconds was one that Mane had never seen before. Yet he didn’t need to be told what it was. “The Clock of Eternity,” Mane croaked, his voice patchy and broken like a man who had known no food nor wine for decades.

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.

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.

Yet I couldn’t help thinking about Enzo. “How much is this clock?” An elderly man asked pulling me out of my thoughts. I smiled as I saw the clock he was holding. It was an antique wall clock that had worn with age. The golden hands ticked steadily and the frame had gold designs. “That’s a beautiful piece,” I said, stepping closer. “It’s from the late 1800s, handcrafted with brass details.” I ran a gentle hand over the wood. “It still works perfectly.”