Talking Clock Novels & Stories

Clara sat on the carpet and read a smaller boy from a fairy tale book before. Emil didn't sort lists. He played chess. And just lost to a girl who was at most nine years old. Everything seemed peaceful. Until suddenly one of the old watches hit. Once. Then again. And again. Everybody looked up. The clock hadn't worked for decades. At least according to Emil. But now their pointers moved. Slow down. Easy. Then the pendulum clock stopped. Right at midnight. Silence. Absolute silence. And suddenly a single sentence appeared on the dial.

Surely that should be enough consolation for her. But then... Tick! Tick! Tick! Even here, she was ambushed by the sonorous ticking, which threatened to drive her insane. When he returned, she would talk to him about removing every single clock in the house. She busied herself in the kitchen, washing everything they'd used earlier while she hummed to herself dryly, trying to drown out the maddening sound. Tick! Tick! Tick!

He told her. Clara had her arms tied behind her back so they couldn’t see what she was doing. She slowly touched a small button underneath her watch. Her watch was one of a kind. It was still a prototype that her company her invented. It was a watch that functioned like a normal watch and even look normal but it could also secretly record voices and videos. “What do you mean?” she asked him with a small frown.

Tik-tik-tik, the sound of the wall clock is irritating not just Clark but everyone in the room, with a cold voice Deck asked, "What you got?" Clark stared at him and smirked like an idiot, 'Even I do not know?' "You know na, we don't have much time? We are at the edge of the sword of the president." 'You're thinking about one thing and it's death which is making you mean Deck!'

"Relle, can I ask you something?" I was a bit surprised when Daniella talked to me. We've been block mates since first year and this is the first approach she gave me. We are still here today in the lecture hall. Our prof told us earlier that we have to wait for a speaker to talk about his career management and how he started his own business. He assured us it would be a great help in the future. "Hmm, about what?" "Are you close with that handsome genius in the Physics Department? I saw you last time leaving the same apartment with him. Do you have the same clock birthmark?" she asked with a smile.

To him, Robert was just another superstitious man. "According to this receipt, you bought the clock from Ansela, and it was made by a clock master in the 19th century. Do you know that our countries are currently engaged in a trade war…" The young man repeated the same words Logan had said last night. It was as though he had recorded everything down and rehearsed his lines. Feeling pleased with himself, he added, "See, I helped your hotel avoid a huge loss. You can give me $30,000 or $50,000 for now."

HARRISON'S POV George Woodcock once described the ticking of a clock as a kind of mechanical tyranny, a system we had built ourselves only to end up enslaved by it. According to him, we became servants to our own invention, living in quiet fear of a monster of our own making—rather like Baron von Frankenstein and his creation. I had a patient once, a widower who lived entirely alone, who became convinced that the clock above his kitchen table wasn’t just ticking. He believed it was speaking. Not metaphorically, not imaginatively—but literally forming words.

Her clit throbbed. Pressure, or whomever he was behind the moniker, certainly lived up to his name. On more than one occasion had she been given the pleasure to talk him through his nut while he did the same for her. His voice was distinctive. One she loved hearing serenade her ears as she climaxed. He’d talked her through plenty of air gasping orgasms over the months, and sadly, she had never seen his face. Just his dick and the star tattoo on his hand … and what a gorgeous piece of wood his dick was.Over the chatting back and forth that quickly, Pressure called her on video. With the meter on the side of the screen timing, chelle was all in now. With him she enjoyed the experience, but the

Grace heart skipped a beat when she heard her uncle mentioning the clock “Hello! ummm Grace….” Shade said blushing “hello sir! May I know what you want to know about that clock” she asked “ can you tell me the where did you got this and how many are there and also if you could sell this to me” Shade asked “may I know why you want to buy this clock? It’s really old and not a desirable product” she asked “ My sister in law has a identical looking clock which she accidently broke. It was really dear to her so I wanted to get it for her” Shade replied and saw the color draining from Grace’s face

It was more significant than the others in the room and was made of almost a black-colored wood. "It does?" she asked. "Yes. This clock was rumored to change your destiny" he smiled. Jenna looked at the clock "but how could a clock even do that?" The man smiled almost magically "it was rumored to be a time machine." Melanie and Max were captivated by this, "wouldn't it be so cool to travel back in time?" Asked Max. Melanie nodded in agreement, "it would be amazing," she said excitedly.