Rewinding Clock Novels & Stories

The Copper Kettle at five in the morning was a sanctuary of steam and low-frequency humming. The astronomical clock, now a permanent fixture on the scarred oak counter, maintained a rhythmic "tick-tock" that seemed to sync with the very pulse of the room. It was no longer a relic of Julian’s past or a symbol of his mother’s "wasted time"; it was the heartbeat of a new, unscripted reality. The golden gears, visible behind the polished casing, turned with a precision that felt earned rather than mandated, a silent witness to the night the Ice King had finally melted.

So, if Time wanders off again, it won’t be so treacherous to follow him The sound of cracking bracken and rustling grass outside catches my attention. Getting up from the couch, I peer out the window - only slightly murky with a lack of tlc - hoping to catch sight of Time. Thankfully, it’s him. However, it’s not. It’s Time, but he wears tramping boots a dark shirt and a huge pack on his back. His hair is ruffled, shoulders slouched. This is Time from a million years ago.

I ask. He pointed at the wall clock inside the bedroom. Uh… it was already midnight so he said later. I nodded then they left. Lunar stood up to come closer then brought his face closer to mine. I recoiled at what he was doing until I slid on my hospital bed. I winced at the pain in my leg. He stopped approaching me with almost no space for our faces. I can already smell his fragrant breath. He stared at me then give enough space. “You also feel awkwardness…” he said nodding.

“The hands are moving backward. Maybe we need to set them to the right moment.” Damon glanced at the numbers. “But what’s the right time?” Then, Naomi gasped. “Look at the floor.” Carved into the stone was a date: The day Elias was born. “That must be it!” Anna rushed forward, grabbing the clock’s hands, trying to move them. But as soon as she touched them— The clock tower trembled. Time unraveled. --- The Consequences of Time The group was split apart. Anna found herself in the past—watching her younger self play with her grandmother.

Fine red dust rained down onto the brass teeth of the clockwork core, making the slow, silent gears stutter and grind as they fought against the friction. "The firewall is completely down!" the Station Master shouted, his hands flying across the iron levers of the manual console as he tried to stabilize the power flow. "The acoustic resonance is feeding back into the Root! If you don't go live in thirty seconds, Chiamaka, the crystal will shatter, and the sequence will be lost forever!"

POV: Malia The pendulum of the grandfather clock in the corner swung back and forth with a dull, hollow rhythm. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. It sounded less like a marker of time and more like a warning, counting down the seconds until one of us made a fatal mistake.

She noticed my hand seemed to be showing the number seven. What did that mean? Hannah couldn't figure it out. Just as she was about to touch the clock and rewind time again, she suddenly sensed someone watching her from behind. She turned around, but all she saw was the back of someone wearing black clothes. Hannah touched the clock. Time rewound again and again. Without a doubt, all her attempts to save me failed. By the seventh rewind, Hannah finally understood what I meant by the number seven. The number seven represented the fact that she only had seven chances to rewind time. Each time she went back, the clock became older and older.