Rewind Clock Novels & Stories

I threw myself at him, hugging him tight. "I'll repay you for this." I sincerely admitted. I pulled away and fiddled with the small clock in my hands, "how does this work?" "It's like any old clock. All you have got to do, is change the time to twelve." He explained. "What if I try a different time?" My curiosity got the best of me. "That doesn't work, it never works. I've tried it so many times." He shook his head. "Okay." I nodded. The time was set at the current time. I used the winding button and moved the hands backwards until all three pointers were directly on twelve.

Everyone expected Herbert to push further and move the clock hand to the fourth notch, but he halted the clock's progression test. When the clock's hand was reset back to zero, Herbert unleashed his power once more, drawing a strong surge of energy that caused the dimensional time to reverse. The clock hand slowly began to move backward, first reaching a quarter of a notch, then half a notch… Finally, it stopped at one-and-a-half notches. The match concluded, and the referee announced, "The ninth contestant, Herbert, has achieved a forward movement of three notches and a backward movement of one and a half notches. His performance is the best among all contestants so far."

it asked. "I'm not talking to you. Leave." "You did a local reversal without prior practice." My wolf moved closer. I felt its heat against my side. "Rewinding time for specific objects, no matter how small, is a great feat. And you did that with sheer will alone." I kept my eyes on the cabin. On the proof that I'd done something impossible.

"I'm just going to hit 'Undo'." She didn't use her brush. Scarlett reached out and slammed her blood-stained palm directly onto the central core console. She wasn't fighting the self-destruct; she was rewriting the history of its existence. "Execute Command: TOTAL RECOVERY. AUTHORIZATION: THE ARCHITECT." The crimson countdown timer hit 1... and then, it reversed.

"They match the shapes on the desk. We just need to align them." "No, no," he says, waving me off. He’s hunched over the desk, frantically typing codes into a keypad. "It’s a Fibonacci sequence. Look at the intervals of the clock chiming. It’s 1, 1, 2, 3... we just need the next digit." "Owen, the clock is just broken! Look at the carvings!" "I’ve got it, Sydney! Trust the process!" He slams a code into the keypad with a triumphant grin.

Rowan didn’t answer. His eyes stayed fixed on the top corner of the screen on the timestamp ticking forward in quiet precision. Seconds. Minutes. Then A skip. So small it almost passed as nothing. Rowan’s fingers stilled. “There,” he said. Taryn stepped closer. “What?” He pointed. “The time.” She leaned in, squinting slightly. “…it jumps.” “Yeah.” “By how much?” Rowan dragged the cursor back, slower this time. “Forty-seven seconds.”

“Try restarting.” I turned the key severally. On the fourth try, the engine coughed, caught and roared to life. Relief flooded me. “Thank you, sir,” I said, voice wobbly. He slammed the hood shut. “You’re welcome.” “Where are you headed?” I asked, mostly to be polite, to fill the awkward silence. “To get my watch fixed.” He lifted his wrist. “It’s running twenty minutes behind.” Wait a minute! I glanced at the dash clock.

Clark rolled around in bed, his mind coupled up with her thoughts, found it hard to sleep, His eyes darted over to the huge wall clock in the centre of the room, the seconds ticking slowly, that sound suddenly became louder for me to bear, sounded nothing better than torture. He sat up before putting on his shirt. It was seventeen minutes past three in the morning. It's been more than two hours since he retired to bed, fussing about and turning to no avail.