Rewinding Clock Novels & Stories

"They wanted the Clock of First Causes. And they’ve already set it to the day the North fell." The ground began to shake. The stars in the sky started to move in reverse. "Elara," Kaelen said, his grip on my hand tightening. "The world is rewinding."

“Sign this agreement. It extends your probation by three months and cuts your pay by forty percent.” Adeline Lancaster, the HR manager, casually filed her nails. She didn’t bother looking up as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t think this company can’t run without you just because you wrote the core architecture. “Tristan Rothwell has taken over all your code. You can pack your things and get out whenever you want.” I stared at her arrogant face and let out a cold chuckle. I had been with the company for three months and written every single line of the core codebase. Yet she had stalled my permanent position approval for over twenty days. She wanted to steal my hard work, cut my hard-earned

Mira touched her chest. “And mine.” The leaf inside her locket flashed in perfect time. --- Within days, everything synchronized. Waterfalls poured in rhythm; wind gusted like measured breath. Birds paused mid-flight, gliding between beats, as though time itself had learned discipline. The echoes called it The Great Alignment. They built clocks that had no hands—circles of light counting each pulse in silent worship. But Adrian saw the pattern behind it: Every day, the rhythm quickened by one beat. At this rate, it would reach infinity in less than a month.

"At least we agree on something." The ground shivered. It was not an earthquake. It was a pulse. Deep and artificial, vibrating up through the earth. From somewhere inside the mountain, a massive gear began to turn, the sound grinding through the forest like a sleeping beast waking up. Sloane went still. He pulled out his pocket watch. It was vibrating, the glass face flickering with red light. "The Sanguine Clock," he muttered. "They are using the blood they stole from you to force a Recall."

I stopped to give my mom and kiss and bid farewell for now to a few others. Once we were all ready, Jack and I both handed the clock back to Grace. She touched it, and the time changed to the east coast time zone. “Holy crap! Are you ever gonna tell me how this thing works,” Grace asked, shooting a glare at me. I grinned, absolutely wishing I could throw her down right now and have my way with her.

I gently held her hand that was touching my chin and brought it to my lips for a simple kiss to threatened her in a respectful way. She just pulled her hand from mine as she gave me a glare first before she turned her back on me and steps towards the tree where she first appeared and the jar placed in its hole, turned into a sand clock. There is only more sand in its upper part, and very little sand falls into its lower part. It is as small as a needle but as time goes on, it wears out. That means it's Travis' clock.

“That’s the thing. You won’t have to teach me anything. The clock’s already ticking.” He flicked his chin toward his cuffed wrist, and for a second I thought he meant to show off the timepiece: something Swiss that believed in timeless value. The right-hand guard stripped it and passed it to Elky with two fingers like it was contagious. The face wasn’t ticking—it was counting down. 04:59:27. I felt the numbers in the back of my teeth. “Dead-switch,” Andros said cheerfully.

“Their thoughts aren’t.” James looked back toward the key. “It’s creating something.” “A window.” ⸻ The apartment suddenly felt unnaturally still. No humming refrigerator. No traffic. No wind. Only their breathing. Then… The grandfather clock in the hallway downstairs struck. One. Two. Three. Four. Each chime echoed longer than it should have. When the fourth faded… The brass pocket watch in James’s hand began ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. Its hands lurched forward. 4:14.

he said, looking a little more interested in the conversation. "Well, according to you, certain things were discontinued thirteen years ago," I said and he nodded in confirmation, "but according to a few records, that is not the case." "What records?" I gestured toward the files on the side. Soren's eyebrows cinched into a small frown before he leaned forward and grabbed a file. I sat silently as he read page after page in the file. I could see his relaxed frame turning rigid the more he read on. He looked at me, unable to hide his shock and surprise.

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.