Rewinding Clock Novels & Stories

she whispered, her porcelain face chiseled with a terrible grin. "Now look at the clock." Through the sky above the copper cables a massive three-story bronze wheel, the central treasury clock of the capital, began to lower itself through the plum-colored clouds. The second hand of the clock was a thirty-foot double-edged steel guillotine that was falling toward the center of the lead registry with every tick. The time was three seconds to midnight. The steel wire inside Elara's palm gave a volcanic thump, the green numbers in her mind turning into a solid column of white zeros.

Murphy backed off quietly, sliding behind the bush quickly, as she pulled the parchments out of her bag quietly, the gleam was a dim one, and the words started to dissolve again. This time the date mentioned was not any older, it was the same one, there was some instruction written on those pages, Tick tock goes the clock, unmuzzled. It takes longer to go around to 12 Slow and steady, with careful gait, Turn back the clock to face our fears, To know from where did they start ticking. Look deep in the soul for the answers you seek, To radicate, locate it completely. To know from where does it bleed. So, tick tock goes the clock.

If the mermaids are to escape, it’s going to be up to us. Rerun has apparently come to the same conclusion, because time suddenly starts running backwards. It’s difficult to describe the sensation if you’re close to him when this happens, because you can actually see things moving in reverse. It’s very disconcerting, especially when you’re not expecting it. If you’re not close to him, you have no idea that time has just been magically rewound. Unfortunately, Rerun is only able to reverse time for about thirty seconds this morning, back to when the Seals have already begun to emerge from the water. The net is still in place—there’s no chance for the mermaids to make a swim for it.

"Simpleton! What's happening? Why has the quantity of watchers in the live transmission room expanded all things being equal!" "Boss, the server closure has fizzled. The other transmission rooms have been closed down, so the watchers have all gotten into his transmission room." "Then, at that point, pick up the pace and restart the server!" "Indeed! Be that as it may, the restart will require 15 minutes. There are as yet 13 minutes until Bowen's passing. I'm worried it's past the point of no return." "For what reason didn't you say so prior! Advise the squad cars to speed up!"

" My eyes flew open to see Sophia standing before me, still alive and breathing. She was wearing an elegant long dress and had her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, radiating youthful energy. Even so, her eyes were unable to hide their contempt. The Sophia from my future was mature, cold, and unapproachable, but this version of her was bright and spirited, still carrying a touch of liveliness. A lump formed in my throat when I laid my eyes on her. The time machine had indeed brought me back to the past, but unfortunately, it seemed to have malfunctioned. Instead of returning to when we first met, I had arrived thirteen years in the past, on the day Sophia and I were about to be married. Tha

Friday, 23:30: “Beep, hello 001. It's 23:50, the counting system will close in ten minutes, please complete the count from 1 to 120 if you want to continue” Again? The clock is out of time but there are rules, it's wrong every three days. I sighed, counting again. Saturday, 21:05: Beep. 1.2..3..120. Day Eight, 21:05: Beep. 1.2..3..120. Ninth day, 21:05: Beep. 1.2..3..120. Ninth day, 23:30: “Beep, hello 001. It is now 23:50, the counting system will close in nine minutes, please complete the count from 1 to 120 if you want to continue”

I reached up, grabbed the clock's wooden frame, and ripped it off the wall with a sharp yank, snapping the mounting screws, which clattered onto the floor. CRACK! The mahogany box burst open upon impacting the metal table. In the rear cavity of the clock's frame, taped with black electrical tape to the gear mechanism, rested a small circular aluminum device with a fine three-inch wire antenna and a live data-transmission microchip.

The heavy pendulum of the grandfather clock in my bedroom swung methodically. The brass hands aligned perfectly. It was exactly 1:57 AM. "One hundred and eighty seconds," I whispered to the empty room, calculating my exact operational window. "I have three minutes before the exterior guards execute their shift rotation." I slipped off the mattress and moved swiftly toward the massive antique wardrobe. I pressed my thumb against the hidden spring release near the base of the dark mahogany wood. The internal mechanical latch disengaged. The back panel clicked open instantly, revealing a narrow, pitch-black architectural void.

I hurry over to the desk, swipe dust from the area, and start rolling back the clip to the day I almost died. While one hand controls the screen, the other holds fast to my taser. My senses are heightened still. Finally getting the actual date and time, I click the ‘OK’ icon. Nothing. “How?” I sigh and go again. Still, nothing. The joke isn't sitting well with me. Instead of putting in the time, I only use the date and fast forward through the clip till midnight the next day… It jumps, indicating a missing clip. Holy hell. He was here too?! Or am I really crazy?!

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.”