The Story Writing Activity
Forward In Time....?
Oliver’s Head Spun. How did this even work?? The old man and Sofia had used the clock before, it seemed, and they had been fine. Why then, had this happened?
With a sickening feeling, Oliver pulled the little slip of paper out of his pocket - Beware The Second Turn
Surely that couldn’t mean-
But it MUST.
With a start, Oliver noticed that the paper no longer had just the words on it. It had a skull painted on it- as well as a clock, which was actually Moving, even though it shouldn’t have been able to, on paper.
Oliver’s heart leapt. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be scared or curious.
Oliver’s Head Spun. How did this even work?? The old man and Sofia had used the clock before, it seemed, and they had been fine. Why then, had this happened?
With a sickening feeling, Oliver pulled the little slip of paper out of his pocket - Beware The Second Turn
Surely that couldn’t mean-
But it MUST.
With a start, Oliver noticed that the paper no longer had just the words on it. It had a skull painted on it- as well as a clock, which was actually Moving, even though it shouldn’t have been able to, on paper.
Oliver’s heart leapt. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be scared or curious.
Last edited by Inara Yang on 12 Jun 2024, 23:31, edited 1 time in total.
The Story Writing Activity
[new POV, super spooky I know :p]
Clocks did not tick and tock like in the nursery rhymes or the children's stories or even as the ones on the walls of a modest suburbian home. Clocks, in their purest of forms, were as silent as the owl's wings on his nighttime hunt. Clocks were the beginning and end of all things.
Clocks were perfection.
A chime.
A glowing, perfect smile curled itself upon a dark and beautiful and terrible and cruel face. The face of a god. The face of one who knew all and was all and was master of all. Master of the clocks. Master of the world.
A second chime. A second smile.
The time was almost right.
Clocks did not tick and tock like in the nursery rhymes or the children's stories or even as the ones on the walls of a modest suburbian home. Clocks, in their purest of forms, were as silent as the owl's wings on his nighttime hunt. Clocks were the beginning and end of all things.
Clocks were perfection.
A chime.
A glowing, perfect smile curled itself upon a dark and beautiful and terrible and cruel face. The face of a god. The face of one who knew all and was all and was master of all. Master of the clocks. Master of the world.
A second chime. A second smile.
The time was almost right.
The Story Writing Activity
[Sofia's turn >:D]
The first thing Sofia noticed was that her grandfather was gone. There were, of course, many other things to notice, but she felt his absence right away, before anything else.
She had closed her eyes when Oliver was turning the crown, so as not to get blinded, but even without sight she knew her grandfather was gone. It almost made her not want to open her eyes at all, because if he wasn't there, that meant things had gone terribly, terribly wrong, and perhaps by ignoring it all it would go away. But she knew better. So she reluctantly opened her eyes.
The next thing Sofia noticed was that the clock was in her hands. That was weird. Oliver had been the one holding it - Sofia hadn't even been touching it. Why it was now in her possession, she had no idea. But there were other, more important things to be worrying about.
Finally, Sofia looked around. And nearly jumped out of her skin. Okay, this was weird. She was still in her grandfather's home - that she knew from the wood and the placement of the windows and the fireplace and, well, she did live here, so of course she knew the place. But everything was wrong. The table wasn't in the right place, there were old-looking decorations all over the place, the wood looked shinier and sturdier, and it didn't smell like her home at all.
Also, Oliver was gone. This was less surprising, as she'd already realized her grandfather had disappeared, but it was still problematic.
Suddenly, something white in the corner of her vision caught her eye. On the table - a table she did not recognize, that was in the wrong place - was a newspaper. A very old-looking newspaper, but not because the edges were frayed or the paper was made brown by the passing of time. No, it looked brand new. Except at the top of it was the date "JUNE 11 1884".
The first thing Sofia noticed was that her grandfather was gone. There were, of course, many other things to notice, but she felt his absence right away, before anything else.
She had closed her eyes when Oliver was turning the crown, so as not to get blinded, but even without sight she knew her grandfather was gone. It almost made her not want to open her eyes at all, because if he wasn't there, that meant things had gone terribly, terribly wrong, and perhaps by ignoring it all it would go away. But she knew better. So she reluctantly opened her eyes.
The next thing Sofia noticed was that the clock was in her hands. That was weird. Oliver had been the one holding it - Sofia hadn't even been touching it. Why it was now in her possession, she had no idea. But there were other, more important things to be worrying about.
Finally, Sofia looked around. And nearly jumped out of her skin. Okay, this was weird. She was still in her grandfather's home - that she knew from the wood and the placement of the windows and the fireplace and, well, she did live here, so of course she knew the place. But everything was wrong. The table wasn't in the right place, there were old-looking decorations all over the place, the wood looked shinier and sturdier, and it didn't smell like her home at all.
Also, Oliver was gone. This was less surprising, as she'd already realized her grandfather had disappeared, but it was still problematic.
Suddenly, something white in the corner of her vision caught her eye. On the table - a table she did not recognize, that was in the wrong place - was a newspaper. A very old-looking newspaper, but not because the edges were frayed or the paper was made brown by the passing of time. No, it looked brand new. Except at the top of it was the date "JUNE 11 1884".
The Story Writing Activity
Sofia's breath caught in her throat. How could this be? June 11, 1884? It had been 2024 when she had last checked her phone. She scanned the room again, taking in the details. The ornate wallpaper, the gas lamps, the heavy, dark wooden furniture—all of it was consistent with the late 19th century. Her mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. The second turn of the clock, the warning, her grandfather's disappearance—it all pointed to one terrifying conclusion. She had somehow traveled back in time.
The pocket watch in her hand felt heavier now, almost as if it carried the weight of the centuries. She examined it closely, noting the intricate symbols that decorated its surface. Symbols she had never seen before, but which now seemed to pulse with a strange energy.
Suddenly, she heard a soft noise—a shuffle, perhaps a footstep—from the adjoining room. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn't alone. Clutching the pocket watch tightly, she moved cautiously towards the sound.
The door to the next room creaked as she pushed it open. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a flickering gas lamp on the wall. The space was filled with books and strange artifacts, some of which looked vaguely familiar from her grandfather's collection.
As she stepped further into the room, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a man, dressed in the fashion of the 1880s—complete with a waistcoat and pocket square. His eyes, a striking blue, met hers with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
"Who are you?" Sofia asked, her voice trembling slightly.
The man took a step forward, his expression softening. "I might ask you the same question. But first, perhaps you can tell me how you came to possess that watch."
Sofia hesitated, but there was something about the man's demeanor that made her feel she could trust him. "My name is Sofia," she began. "I...I think I might have traveled through time. This watch—it belongs to my family. My grandfather told me it had special powers, but I didn't really believe him until now."
The man's eyes widened slightly. "A time traveler, then," he mused. "This is most intriguing. I am Dr. Jonathan Hargrove, a historian and, as it happens, a collector of rare and magical artifacts."
Sofia's mind raced. Could this man help her return to her own time? Could he help her find her grandfather and Oliver? "Dr. Hargrove, do you know anything about this watch? How it works? How I might be able to use it to go back to where I came from?"
Dr. Hargrove nodded slowly. "I have studied such devices, though I have never encountered one quite like this. If what you say is true, and you have indeed traveled through time, then this watch must contain a powerful magic. It might be possible to reverse its effects, but we would need to understand the exact nature of its enchantment."
He motioned for Sofia to sit down at a large wooden desk cluttered with papers and ancient tomes. "We must examine the symbols and the mechanism closely. There may be clues hidden within its design."
The pocket watch in her hand felt heavier now, almost as if it carried the weight of the centuries. She examined it closely, noting the intricate symbols that decorated its surface. Symbols she had never seen before, but which now seemed to pulse with a strange energy.
Suddenly, she heard a soft noise—a shuffle, perhaps a footstep—from the adjoining room. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn't alone. Clutching the pocket watch tightly, she moved cautiously towards the sound.
The door to the next room creaked as she pushed it open. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a flickering gas lamp on the wall. The space was filled with books and strange artifacts, some of which looked vaguely familiar from her grandfather's collection.
As she stepped further into the room, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was a man, dressed in the fashion of the 1880s—complete with a waistcoat and pocket square. His eyes, a striking blue, met hers with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
"Who are you?" Sofia asked, her voice trembling slightly.
The man took a step forward, his expression softening. "I might ask you the same question. But first, perhaps you can tell me how you came to possess that watch."
Sofia hesitated, but there was something about the man's demeanor that made her feel she could trust him. "My name is Sofia," she began. "I...I think I might have traveled through time. This watch—it belongs to my family. My grandfather told me it had special powers, but I didn't really believe him until now."
The man's eyes widened slightly. "A time traveler, then," he mused. "This is most intriguing. I am Dr. Jonathan Hargrove, a historian and, as it happens, a collector of rare and magical artifacts."
Sofia's mind raced. Could this man help her return to her own time? Could he help her find her grandfather and Oliver? "Dr. Hargrove, do you know anything about this watch? How it works? How I might be able to use it to go back to where I came from?"
Dr. Hargrove nodded slowly. "I have studied such devices, though I have never encountered one quite like this. If what you say is true, and you have indeed traveled through time, then this watch must contain a powerful magic. It might be possible to reverse its effects, but we would need to understand the exact nature of its enchantment."
He motioned for Sofia to sit down at a large wooden desk cluttered with papers and ancient tomes. "We must examine the symbols and the mechanism closely. There may be clues hidden within its design."
| A million dreams is all it´s gonna take |
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