Rewind Clock Novels & Stories

A statue of a white wolf, with prominent blue eyes was built up at the pinnacle and below it was a large clock, ticking away. This was the clock. I rushed up the aisle, stepping onto the altar as I stood before the clock to see clearly. Then I realized that this clock was different from the usual ones we knew. Its values were a six hour interval where the seconds value was supposed to be. And a twenty-four hour interval for where the hours were supposed to be. What day is twelve o'clock? Twelve o'clock? Oh. She was talking about the northern cardinal. "Thursday." And where is the hour hand?

required to push the universe into the next microsecond. "We are no longer traveling through time, Audrey," Lucas’s voice boomed across the Chronos-Lattice, vibrating through the "Phase-Shifting-Pistons." "We are 'Manufacturing' it. Every tick of this gear is a billion souls choosing to 'Be' for one more second. We have turned the 'Arrow of Time' into a 'Circulating-Pump.' Nothing is lost. Every tear shed in the Soot-Pits is recovered, refined, and used to lubricate the gears of the 'Eternal-Now'."

Time: 02:17 AM. Marcus whistles quietly. “That’s definitely the crash date.” But now that I’m looking at it… I see it. The mistake. “No,” I whisper. Marcus frowns. “What?” I point to the date again. “That’s the wrong format.” Adrian leans closer. “What do you mean?” “The system clock.” Marcus tilts his head. “Okay, now we’re in architect-turned-forensic territory.” I zoom in on the corner of the display. “The internal dash system was imported from Germany.”

“Teach me how to play the part of a 'normal man.'” The grandfather clock in the corner chimed. Two o'clock. The countdown had begun.

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.

I'm already dead. Wait, I realized one thing. I looked at the calendar on the nightstand and realized that it was a calendar from 3 years ago. I was silent and tried to digest all this confusing information. "Mom, what date is it?" I asked Mommy. Mommy, who wanted to leave my room, turned and looked at me with a strange look. "Does sleeping give you amnesia, dear? Did Mommy shake your body too hard, making you so dazed?" Mommy's face looked worried.

He knows the predator is in the room, but he can't see the teeth. I walk out into the hallway. The grandfather clock chimes. Dong. Dong. Dong. Ten o'clock. The house will be asleep by midnight. At 04:22, I will be reborn.

"The clock is playing back every second I spent away from you. Every second we spent as monsters. It’s trying to tell us that our time has Run Out" "File 99: The Final Clock," the Liquidator spoke, his voice sounding like a thousand shattering watches. He manifested as a giant, translucent pendulum that swung across the sky, his cyan suit now a blur of moving gears. "Status: Overdue. Recommendation: Immediate Liquidation of the Future. The Star-Child’s record has exceeded the storage capacity of the Loom. We must Truncate the Timeline". "Leo! The Buffer!" I cried out. My son was at the base of the tower, his indigo runes turning a terrifying, surgical blue as he attempted to "Jam" the gears

12:00 AM EST. I waite⁠d. I watched the clo⁠ck on my computer screen tick closer to midn​ig⁠ht. ​11:58... 11:59... 12:00‌. The data refreshed. A‍ new​ block​ of tran​sf​ers went‍ t​hrough​.

**77 : 08 : 21 : 44** Blinked. Rewrote. **69 : 23 : 59 : 59** The numbers jumped violently, tearing away weeks in a heartbeat. Aria’s voice came out thin and high. “Timer jumped again,” she said. “You’re down to weeks now.”