Rewinding Clock Novels & Stories

**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.”

"The Steward didn't just pause the world. He triggered the Liquidation Sequence. In five minutes, this entire sector London, the Manor, your sister it all gets converted into raw energy to pay back the Ninth Circle’s losses." "I won't let them," Elara said, her voice dropping into that lethal, tritonal resonance. "Then you’ve got to break the Master Clock," Holloway said, pointing toward the center of the Atlantic, where a massive, glowing gear was slowly rising out of the grey glass of the ocean. It was miles wide, constructed of interlocking souls and golden light. "That’s the anchor," Holloway explained. "It’s what’s holding the 'Pause' button down. You destroy that, the world restarts. B

The first second didn't drop; it struck. On the screen of the manual device, the numbers flipped from *00:00:90* to *00:00:89*, and with that single tick, the gravity inside the liquid-mirror sphere shifted. The mercury coating the walls didn't slide down the granite; it began to thicken, its surface tightening into a polished, seamless chrome that reflected our faces in grotesque, infinite repetitions. "Ethan, the clock!" I screamed, my voice bouncing off the metallic curves until it sounded like a choir of panicked Graces. I squeezed Florence closer, her tiny fingers digging into the wool of my lapel, her breath a warm, frantic puff against my throat.

“My parents are in there. Every time you left me at that altar, you left them there too, wondering what was wrong with their son. I won’t let you do that to them again. You don’t get to be that selfish here.” Her face, already pale, seemed to drain of its last bit of color. She swallowed, a hard, visible motion in her throat. Then, with a carefulness that felt sacred, she reached into her coat pocket. She pulled out the watch. The jagged crack across the crystal was gone. It had been repaired so perfectly it was invisible. The gold-toned hands gleamed under the porch light. The second hand moved with a steady, silent sweep. Tick. Tick. Tick.Time, meticulously restarted.

John and Hewey enter a little tension-filled staring match, and Dewey picks up a remote control like device. "This," he raises his voice to avert the attention to himself, "is the device that can take us back and forth in time. It changes the weather, time, and place of arrival. We've spent years creating this device, speeding up the process when news of the Reversal first came out. We were prepared for this. However, we shielded our possession from the world so that the government could not get their hands on it." "And now," Hewey inserts himself, "We will go back to 2016 in New York City, and pick up a paper for proof."

Just move the log. I haven’t been able to make it budge an inch. I roll over and look at the clock. Four seventeen a.m. Two solid weeks of getting to be a spectator in the memories of my past lives. I think it’s time to take things into my own hands.

He whispered, "nothing let's go back to sleep." Hearing the birds outside and the bright sun shining through the window onto his face, he lay awake. Claire still had her hand around his waist and her leg over his. She was tight asleep. It was 7 am, and it was Saturday morning. He looked down and placed his hands over hers, feeling her breathing on the back of his neck. He had never been this close to her, and her body was warm, making him warmer than he already was. He moved slightly forward, releasing his body from her, as she whispered, “It is Saturday. Let's get some more sleep,” She pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his neck. She then kissed the back of his neck, running her hand o

Winstan mumbled as we filed into the doors and walked to the conference room, where everyone took their usual seats around the oval table. “If you call a meeting at a certain time, you’d think you’d be there, right?” AP grumbled as he glanced at his watch. “What time do you have?” I asked as I noticed the round clock hanging over the doorway. “Nine forty-five,” AP answered. The clock’s hands were stuck between seven and eight. “Do you hear that?” my great-aunt asked as her eyes shifted to the ceiling. “That high, squeaky sound.” “Probably just the air conditioning kicking on,” Winstan said. “Tippy’s been having issues with it for days now. She said she got someone to come in to have it fixed

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 second hand swept forward. One minute left.