THE CLOCKMAKER’S SECRET A Five-Chapter Mystery
Chapter One - The Silent Hour
The clock shop on Briar Lane was forever a bit weird as a landmark in the old sleeping district. After it closed almost ten years ago, people still refused to walk right in front of it, but instead they crossed the street. Its windows were covered with layers of dust that muted the reflections of passing headlights, and ivy scaled the walls as if nature was trying to eat the building. The residents of the town, however, claimed that every single night the loud and deep sound of the shop’s grandfather clock could be heard from the lane at 11:07 p.m. They said the store was still alive and making perfect time even though it was closed. Such a thing was the reason the police called Detective Elena Ward.Elena was not the type to believe in ghosts. She was well known for exposing the real causes behind the supernatural things that turn out to be tricks, frauds, or people’s hidden intentions. Even so, she could sense something very unusual around the shop and at her coming. The door was closed and the wood was old and slightly deformed but it opened slightly as if by a gentle touch. On the inside was a world of stopped time: every clock was showing the same minute as their last, pendulums were stopped in the middle of the arc, and clock hands in corners of the rooms looked to be breaking the continuity of the walls like an incomplete combination of fragments.However, a singular item was on the main table that was out of place: a small clock made from shiny brass, and it kept up ticking. With absolute precision the one second hand was moving continuously. Elena came up to the clock as close as she could and checked it carefully for signs of tampering with oil, gearing, or fingerprints. The clock seemed very far from dust, and it appeared that even time couldn’t get its hands on it. Besides that, there was a plate finding on its base with something simply engraved that made air go out of her lungs abruptly:“For E.W.—Find what I couldn’t.”Her initials,Not once did she think of the place as her, not once did she imagine the face of the hermit clockmaker Harlan Blythe. Yet here was the message, as if the clock knew she would be the one to open it one day. She attempted to get rid of the feeling that neck hairs were rising, but suddenly it seemed too quiet and the shadows too focused. No tricks here; she clicked the brass surface with her finger—no false bottom, no hidden speaker, or trap.The clock then rang only once. A single soft bell.It was not from a bell—there was no bell in the apparatus. The implication was that the sound was coming from somewhere completely different.With her hand, totally off the device, Elena took one step backwards. She was really startled.Something was amiss here.And it was as if, for the first time after too long, she felt that the mystery of the Briar Lane Clockworks might be supernaturally linked.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
The clock shop on Briar Lane was forever a bit weird as a landmark in the old sleeping district. After it closed almost ten years ago, people still refused to walk right in front of it, but instead they crossed the street. Its windows were covered with layers of dust that muted the reflections of passing headlights, and ivy scaled the walls as if nature was trying to eat the building. The residents of the town, however, claimed that every single night the loud and deep sound of the shop’s grandfather clock could be heard from the lane at 11:07 p.m. They said the store was still alive and making perfect time even though it was closed. Such a thing was the reason the police called Detective Elena Ward.Elena was not the type to believe in ghosts. She was well known for exposing the real causes behind the supernatural things that turn out to be tricks, frauds, or people’s hidden intentions. Even so, she could sense something very unusual around the shop and at her coming. The door was closed and the wood was old and slightly deformed but it opened slightly as if by a gentle touch. On the inside was a world of stopped time: every clock was showing the same minute as their last, pendulums were stopped in the middle of the arc, and clock hands in corners of the rooms looked to be breaking the continuity of the walls like an incomplete combination of fragments.However, a singular item was on the main table that was out of place: a small clock made from shiny brass, and it kept up ticking. With absolute precision the one second hand was moving continuously. Elena came up to the clock as close as she could and checked it carefully for signs of tampering with oil, gearing, or fingerprints. The clock seemed very far from dust, and it appeared that even time couldn’t get its hands on it. Besides that, there was a plate finding on its base with something simply engraved that made air go out of her lungs abruptly:“For E.W.—Find what I couldn’t.”Her initials,Not once did she think of the place as her, not once did she imagine the face of the hermit clockmaker Harlan Blythe. Yet here was the message, as if the clock knew she would be the one to open it one day. She attempted to get rid of the feeling that neck hairs were rising, but suddenly it seemed too quiet and the shadows too focused. No tricks here; she clicked the brass surface with her finger—no false bottom, no hidden speaker, or trap.The clock then rang only once. A single soft bell.It was not from a bell—there was no bell in the apparatus. The implication was that the sound was coming from somewhere completely different.With her hand, totally off the device, Elena took one step backwards. She was really startled.Something was amiss here.And it was as if, for the first time after too long, she felt that the mystery of the Briar Lane Clockworks might be supernaturally linked.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
THE CLOCKMAKER’S SECRET A Five-Chapter Mystery
Chapter Two - The Missing Apprentice
The following day, Elena dug through the town archives—files that had been lying around for years, newspapers that had long lost their shine, and reports that looked like they were from another century. In general, folks could hardly recall the clock shop’s owner, Harlan Blythe, except for saying that he was "crazy," “secretive,” or “a man who spoke more to machines than humans.” Yet the documents showed a different character: an ingenious worker whose clocks were sought after throughout the area, a person whose exacting work was of such a nature that it almost seemed like he was obsessive. It was not his vanishing that was weird, but the manner in which all his life traces disappeared so suddenly. There was no new address, no bank withdrawals, not even a last-known sighting with the only indication being a very short note from the police: "Left late at night. Has not been seen since."However, the one name that kept popping up was that of Jonas Reddick, Blythe’s young apprentice at the time. Elena discovered a faded address and went to a small apartment located at the town's edge. Jonas appeared to be much older than his years, and it seemed to Elena that worry had deeply impacted his facial features. When he opened the door and saw her badge, he shrank back—not in guilt, but in fear.“I know why you’re here,” he whispered, moving to the side, thus allowing her to come in. “The shop. The clock.”Jonas would not sit down, instead he walked up and down anxiously while Elena interrogated him about Harlan. His fingers were trembling when he talked. “He was engaged in something that he ought not to be. He said clocks were not just machines—they were portals. I assumed he was speaking metaphorically, but then…” Jonas gulped, and his eyes were looking towards the door as if someone were about to enter abruptly.“He changed,” Jonas whispered. “He ceased sleeping and started talking about times repeating, like echoes. He said he had found a pattern in time—something that was not possible. I told him to quit. I implored him.” Jonas finally looked at Elena, and the fright on his face made her heart ache. “But he didn’t stop until the very night he disappeared.”Elena urged him to talk about the inscription—why would Blythe leave a message for her? Jonas was shaking his head like a madman. “I do not know how he could have known your initials. But if he made that for you, then he must have been the one who knew that you would come. Eventually.”Before Elena could say another word, Jonas suddenly faced the other way, searched through the kitchen drawer, and gave her a closed envelope by force.“This is not my business. I didn’t want to open it. He left it the night before his disappearance, and when I found it, he told me to give it to… I suppose to you.”The one thing inside was a picture of the workbench clock—the same one made of shiny brass that she had discovered. But the clock in this photograph was showing 11:07, and the second hand looked like it was flicking so fast that the camera was not able to capture it because it was blurred. Elena looked at the back; there was no writing. But when she was rechecking the envelope with extra care, she thought that there was something underneath the cover.A small piece of paper tucked away, written in a quick, wavering hand:“He hears the seconds. He walks between them.”When Jonas saw it, he became very pale. “I told Harlan to set fire to that damn clock,” he said softly. “Whatever it was that he found—it was not meant to be found.”Elena left with more questions than answers and a creeping dread she couldn’t shake. If Jonas’s fear was real—and Elena was certain it was—then the mystery of Blythe’s disappearance wasn’t just about a missing person.It was about something—or someone—who lived between ticking moments.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
The following day, Elena dug through the town archives—files that had been lying around for years, newspapers that had long lost their shine, and reports that looked like they were from another century. In general, folks could hardly recall the clock shop’s owner, Harlan Blythe, except for saying that he was "crazy," “secretive,” or “a man who spoke more to machines than humans.” Yet the documents showed a different character: an ingenious worker whose clocks were sought after throughout the area, a person whose exacting work was of such a nature that it almost seemed like he was obsessive. It was not his vanishing that was weird, but the manner in which all his life traces disappeared so suddenly. There was no new address, no bank withdrawals, not even a last-known sighting with the only indication being a very short note from the police: "Left late at night. Has not been seen since."However, the one name that kept popping up was that of Jonas Reddick, Blythe’s young apprentice at the time. Elena discovered a faded address and went to a small apartment located at the town's edge. Jonas appeared to be much older than his years, and it seemed to Elena that worry had deeply impacted his facial features. When he opened the door and saw her badge, he shrank back—not in guilt, but in fear.“I know why you’re here,” he whispered, moving to the side, thus allowing her to come in. “The shop. The clock.”Jonas would not sit down, instead he walked up and down anxiously while Elena interrogated him about Harlan. His fingers were trembling when he talked. “He was engaged in something that he ought not to be. He said clocks were not just machines—they were portals. I assumed he was speaking metaphorically, but then…” Jonas gulped, and his eyes were looking towards the door as if someone were about to enter abruptly.“He changed,” Jonas whispered. “He ceased sleeping and started talking about times repeating, like echoes. He said he had found a pattern in time—something that was not possible. I told him to quit. I implored him.” Jonas finally looked at Elena, and the fright on his face made her heart ache. “But he didn’t stop until the very night he disappeared.”Elena urged him to talk about the inscription—why would Blythe leave a message for her? Jonas was shaking his head like a madman. “I do not know how he could have known your initials. But if he made that for you, then he must have been the one who knew that you would come. Eventually.”Before Elena could say another word, Jonas suddenly faced the other way, searched through the kitchen drawer, and gave her a closed envelope by force.“This is not my business. I didn’t want to open it. He left it the night before his disappearance, and when I found it, he told me to give it to… I suppose to you.”The one thing inside was a picture of the workbench clock—the same one made of shiny brass that she had discovered. But the clock in this photograph was showing 11:07, and the second hand looked like it was flicking so fast that the camera was not able to capture it because it was blurred. Elena looked at the back; there was no writing. But when she was rechecking the envelope with extra care, she thought that there was something underneath the cover.A small piece of paper tucked away, written in a quick, wavering hand:“He hears the seconds. He walks between them.”When Jonas saw it, he became very pale. “I told Harlan to set fire to that damn clock,” he said softly. “Whatever it was that he found—it was not meant to be found.”Elena left with more questions than answers and a creeping dread she couldn’t shake. If Jonas’s fear was real—and Elena was certain it was—then the mystery of Blythe’s disappearance wasn’t just about a missing person.It was about something—or someone—who lived between ticking moments.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
THE CLOCKMAKER’S SECRET A Five-Chapter Mystery
Chapter Three - The Eleven-Seven Anomaly
That evening, Elena brought back to Briar Lane not only the photograph and the secret note but also a feeling of apprehension that she might be heading somewhere unknown. There wasn’t much light between those tightly packed rooftops, and a thin mist hovered over the road, lending the street a haunted look as she got to the clock shop. She tried to open the door, half-believing the store would bar her way—but in fact, the door was already half open, greeting her as if it were now her ally.After that, it seemed to her that the air inside was heavier than earlier, as if the very time that had passed after sunset was thickening. She even looked at her own watch: 10:58 p.m.Just nine minutes before the hour.On the one hand, hundreds of clocks—the vast majority of which—were completely silent, and their hands that were not moving caught the dim beam coming from her torch. The only clock on the brass table with its hand moving was the ticking workbench clock. It was this clock that seemed to be making a louder and sharper ticking sound tonight, and with a much greater echo than ever before. Next to the clock, she put the photograph and then looked at both of them to compare. Only one difference could be found between these two: a blur in the photo. Elena looked through the clock at her face. The second hand of the clock was going on as usual, in a continuous curve.However, every time it was just that little bit, so quietly that she almost could not see it, the hand vibrated, as if it were fighting against some invisible thing.At 11:06, something changed.It was not a sound that made Elena feel it, nor a vibration, but rather an instinctive feeling that was at the very edge of her senses. The air shivered, the lights overhead flickered, and a very faint humming sound came from the walls. Dust that was there in the air also remained there, it being completely still. Even the sound of her breathing was quite different from the usual one, it being as though she were underwater.Her watch made a noise when the hand moved.It then made a stop.The clock on the workbench stopped at 11:07.Then, in a seemingly impossible manner, all the clocks that were dead, dusty, and had not been ticking for a long time in the shop started ticking at the same time and at the same rate.A single, synchronized tick.Just one.Spider veins appeared on Elena's skin. She withdrew from the area, heart pumping like mad, looking around the store to see if there was any movement. A gust of wind seemed to move the air behind her, although the windows were tightly closed. Turning around quickly with her hand on her weapon, she only saw the shadows.Then a very faint voice was heard near her ear. It was the voice of a person who was out of breath, was in a hurry, and was very close to her."Elena," it said. "I cannot tell much."Her temperature dropped drastically. "Who is there?" she asked. However, her voice was as though it was being absorbed by the room, because it sounded very quiet and not like a human voice would carry it.No response.She tried very hard to concentrate and relax her fists. The note in the envelope was calling to her mind like a flash:He listens to the seconds. He is between them.Elena loosened her grip on the brass clock, and after that, she brought to her remembrance the line of the Jonas's message that was hidden somewhere:“Look under the 11:07 clock.”She turned the clock over. The screws were slightly worn and looser than usual, as if someone had already taken them out. A small brass key that was covered with a piece of brown paper and a torn and stained small piece of paper that looked like it had been ripped off a much bigger ledger made up the inside of the base of the clock.The writing—Blythe's—was very desperate:"The door gets bigger at 11:07. Time looping, she will find me. Breaking it, she has to stop him."Her nerves tightened up. She.He was the one who met her.Anyway, the question remained: how did he know her? Why would he think she's the one?Light flickering again stopped her from understanding the next instant. And this time, it wasn't the flicker; something else had moved. The shadows on the far wall grew longer, stretched a little too far, twisted at angles that didn't correspond with the shapes of the furniture that was throwing them.The clocks had stopped once again.The strange thing was gone.Nevertheless, Elena was definitely certain of one thing:She wasn't simply investigating a missing-person case anymore.She was dealing with someone—or something—that was in a very small moment of time that the rest of the world didn't know.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
That evening, Elena brought back to Briar Lane not only the photograph and the secret note but also a feeling of apprehension that she might be heading somewhere unknown. There wasn’t much light between those tightly packed rooftops, and a thin mist hovered over the road, lending the street a haunted look as she got to the clock shop. She tried to open the door, half-believing the store would bar her way—but in fact, the door was already half open, greeting her as if it were now her ally.After that, it seemed to her that the air inside was heavier than earlier, as if the very time that had passed after sunset was thickening. She even looked at her own watch: 10:58 p.m.Just nine minutes before the hour.On the one hand, hundreds of clocks—the vast majority of which—were completely silent, and their hands that were not moving caught the dim beam coming from her torch. The only clock on the brass table with its hand moving was the ticking workbench clock. It was this clock that seemed to be making a louder and sharper ticking sound tonight, and with a much greater echo than ever before. Next to the clock, she put the photograph and then looked at both of them to compare. Only one difference could be found between these two: a blur in the photo. Elena looked through the clock at her face. The second hand of the clock was going on as usual, in a continuous curve.However, every time it was just that little bit, so quietly that she almost could not see it, the hand vibrated, as if it were fighting against some invisible thing.At 11:06, something changed.It was not a sound that made Elena feel it, nor a vibration, but rather an instinctive feeling that was at the very edge of her senses. The air shivered, the lights overhead flickered, and a very faint humming sound came from the walls. Dust that was there in the air also remained there, it being completely still. Even the sound of her breathing was quite different from the usual one, it being as though she were underwater.Her watch made a noise when the hand moved.It then made a stop.The clock on the workbench stopped at 11:07.Then, in a seemingly impossible manner, all the clocks that were dead, dusty, and had not been ticking for a long time in the shop started ticking at the same time and at the same rate.A single, synchronized tick.Just one.Spider veins appeared on Elena's skin. She withdrew from the area, heart pumping like mad, looking around the store to see if there was any movement. A gust of wind seemed to move the air behind her, although the windows were tightly closed. Turning around quickly with her hand on her weapon, she only saw the shadows.Then a very faint voice was heard near her ear. It was the voice of a person who was out of breath, was in a hurry, and was very close to her."Elena," it said. "I cannot tell much."Her temperature dropped drastically. "Who is there?" she asked. However, her voice was as though it was being absorbed by the room, because it sounded very quiet and not like a human voice would carry it.No response.She tried very hard to concentrate and relax her fists. The note in the envelope was calling to her mind like a flash:He listens to the seconds. He is between them.Elena loosened her grip on the brass clock, and after that, she brought to her remembrance the line of the Jonas's message that was hidden somewhere:“Look under the 11:07 clock.”She turned the clock over. The screws were slightly worn and looser than usual, as if someone had already taken them out. A small brass key that was covered with a piece of brown paper and a torn and stained small piece of paper that looked like it had been ripped off a much bigger ledger made up the inside of the base of the clock.The writing—Blythe's—was very desperate:"The door gets bigger at 11:07. Time looping, she will find me. Breaking it, she has to stop him."Her nerves tightened up. She.He was the one who met her.Anyway, the question remained: how did he know her? Why would he think she's the one?Light flickering again stopped her from understanding the next instant. And this time, it wasn't the flicker; something else had moved. The shadows on the far wall grew longer, stretched a little too far, twisted at angles that didn't correspond with the shapes of the furniture that was throwing them.The clocks had stopped once again.The strange thing was gone.Nevertheless, Elena was definitely certain of one thing:She wasn't simply investigating a missing-person case anymore.She was dealing with someone—or something—that was in a very small moment of time that the rest of the world didn't know.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
THE CLOCKMAKER’S SECRET A Five-Chapter Mystery
Chapter Four - The Man Between Seconds
Elena stayed up all night. She had Blythe's torn page, the photo, and Jonas's warning spread out across her dining table, and she kept looking at them as if the pieces would sort themselves out and give her the answers. The name Marcus Hale, which was repeatedly written in Blythe's journal, caught her eyes like a strong undercurrent running below everything. Elena only knew him by his reputation: A local historian with not only a sharp mind but also a sharp tongue, highly regarded in the academic world but talked about with suspicion in the town. It was said that he had an uncanny way of remembering things that he shouldn't. Events no one could recall and moments no one could deny that hadn't happened.The following day Elena went to the building of the historical society where Marcus was working. The old brick building was next to the river, towering over it, and its windows were tall and narrow like vigilant eyes. The atmosphere inside was that of old books and freshly varnished wood. Marcus was busy with the cataloging of a pile of archival boxes when she came up to him.He raised his eyes, and the very moment they saw each other, Elena experienced a slight unexpected jolt—recognition where it shouldn't be. His face was serene, too serene, as if he had been expecting her all along.“Detective Ward,” he uttered without even a glance, asking her name. “You finally made it.”Without delay Elena's defense came up. "I want to interrogate Blythe."His grin was somewhat slow and quite disturbing. "Not the first one to ask that. But maybe you will be the last."Exposing the journal page with his name circled, she said, "Blythe was terrified of you."Marcus kept his composure. "Fear and misunderstanding are often mistaken for the same thing. Harlan found out something incredible, but he did not have the character to use it wisely." He opened the box in front of him a bit more and then closed it again, as if he was getting rid of something invisible from his hand, "People pretend that time is very strict. But after seeing the folds, the places where seconds can be longer... the world becomes clear as glass."Throughout her career Elena has interrogated a number of liars. Marcus, however, is not one of them—he even agrees with himself."What did you do with Blythe?" she whispered."I took him out of his own way," said Marcus in the same irritatingly calm manner. "He was the one who unleashed the breach far before he was aware of its dangers. I was just the one who stopped him from making it worse."Elena felt a cold, empty space in her chest. "Is he still with us?"Marcus looked to his side. "Being alive is… a rather simple word. But yes. In a way."She moved back with her hand slowly reaching for her holster but Marcus signaled with his raised hand that she shouldn't be worried. "Do not. If I wanted to harm you, I would have done it before you walked in."His self-assurance was not arrogance. It was simply certainty.Marcus's look became more intense. "Harlan gave you the key, didn't he? And you have the clock. Well. That lets you open the breach once more."Elena was shocked. "I am not going to do that; are you?""It is the only way I will be able to control it," said Marcus, pulling out from his coat a small metal piece that looked like a hollow ring. Looking inside the ring, there was a very faint glow, like heat coming off the ground. "Time resists being changed, but the breach—what you call the anomaly—is what creates a moment outside the rules. That is the moment I am going to control."Before Elena could reply, he had already turned on the tiny switch.A low sound spread from the floor to her shoes and then into her bones. The air seemed to be getting thicker very quickly. The papers on Marcus’s desk were shaking, and then, they stopped halfway through the rustle. The dust particles seemed to be frozen in the middle of the air. The building was giving the impression of tilting—not physically, but from the point of view—as if her inner ear had lost its balance.Even though Marcus was walking towards her, he was doing it in a very strange way, as though he were moving between different frames of a movie. "You feel it, don’t you?" His voice was very different from what it could have been normally, and his words were unusually long as if they were traveling through a long metal tunnel. "The bleed between seconds."Elena tried to get her gun, but the movement of her hand was very slow, as if it were going through thick air.Her sight started to get dark from the corners.Marcus said in a low voice, "Don’t resist. You were the one chosen for this moment."The sound of the low hum reached its peak.The world turned sideways——and everything went dark.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
Elena stayed up all night. She had Blythe's torn page, the photo, and Jonas's warning spread out across her dining table, and she kept looking at them as if the pieces would sort themselves out and give her the answers. The name Marcus Hale, which was repeatedly written in Blythe's journal, caught her eyes like a strong undercurrent running below everything. Elena only knew him by his reputation: A local historian with not only a sharp mind but also a sharp tongue, highly regarded in the academic world but talked about with suspicion in the town. It was said that he had an uncanny way of remembering things that he shouldn't. Events no one could recall and moments no one could deny that hadn't happened.The following day Elena went to the building of the historical society where Marcus was working. The old brick building was next to the river, towering over it, and its windows were tall and narrow like vigilant eyes. The atmosphere inside was that of old books and freshly varnished wood. Marcus was busy with the cataloging of a pile of archival boxes when she came up to him.He raised his eyes, and the very moment they saw each other, Elena experienced a slight unexpected jolt—recognition where it shouldn't be. His face was serene, too serene, as if he had been expecting her all along.“Detective Ward,” he uttered without even a glance, asking her name. “You finally made it.”Without delay Elena's defense came up. "I want to interrogate Blythe."His grin was somewhat slow and quite disturbing. "Not the first one to ask that. But maybe you will be the last."Exposing the journal page with his name circled, she said, "Blythe was terrified of you."Marcus kept his composure. "Fear and misunderstanding are often mistaken for the same thing. Harlan found out something incredible, but he did not have the character to use it wisely." He opened the box in front of him a bit more and then closed it again, as if he was getting rid of something invisible from his hand, "People pretend that time is very strict. But after seeing the folds, the places where seconds can be longer... the world becomes clear as glass."Throughout her career Elena has interrogated a number of liars. Marcus, however, is not one of them—he even agrees with himself."What did you do with Blythe?" she whispered."I took him out of his own way," said Marcus in the same irritatingly calm manner. "He was the one who unleashed the breach far before he was aware of its dangers. I was just the one who stopped him from making it worse."Elena felt a cold, empty space in her chest. "Is he still with us?"Marcus looked to his side. "Being alive is… a rather simple word. But yes. In a way."She moved back with her hand slowly reaching for her holster but Marcus signaled with his raised hand that she shouldn't be worried. "Do not. If I wanted to harm you, I would have done it before you walked in."His self-assurance was not arrogance. It was simply certainty.Marcus's look became more intense. "Harlan gave you the key, didn't he? And you have the clock. Well. That lets you open the breach once more."Elena was shocked. "I am not going to do that; are you?""It is the only way I will be able to control it," said Marcus, pulling out from his coat a small metal piece that looked like a hollow ring. Looking inside the ring, there was a very faint glow, like heat coming off the ground. "Time resists being changed, but the breach—what you call the anomaly—is what creates a moment outside the rules. That is the moment I am going to control."Before Elena could reply, he had already turned on the tiny switch.A low sound spread from the floor to her shoes and then into her bones. The air seemed to be getting thicker very quickly. The papers on Marcus’s desk were shaking, and then, they stopped halfway through the rustle. The dust particles seemed to be frozen in the middle of the air. The building was giving the impression of tilting—not physically, but from the point of view—as if her inner ear had lost its balance.Even though Marcus was walking towards her, he was doing it in a very strange way, as though he were moving between different frames of a movie. "You feel it, don’t you?" His voice was very different from what it could have been normally, and his words were unusually long as if they were traveling through a long metal tunnel. "The bleed between seconds."Elena tried to get her gun, but the movement of her hand was very slow, as if it were going through thick air.Her sight started to get dark from the corners.Marcus said in a low voice, "Don’t resist. You were the one chosen for this moment."The sound of the low hum reached its peak.The world turned sideways——and everything went dark.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
THE CLOCKMAKER’S SECRET A Five-Chapter Mystery
Chapter Five - The Missing Minute
Elena found herself lying on the wooden floor of the clock shop, cold and in pain. Her head was spinning, and the world was coming back to her sight out of darkness. There was dust in the air that seemed to drift without aim, and the streetlights' weak light, coming through the front windows, made the dust visible. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where—or when—she was.Then she saw the clocks.Every single one of them was showing 11:06.She jumped upright. The anomaly wasn’t coming. It was going over again. She was inside the moment again—one minute before 11:07.Her watch was shaking with her hand. A slight vibration was going through the floorboards, as if the shop itself were breathing.A voice came through the silence, quiet and gentle like a breath.“Elena… listen carefully.”She stopped moving. That voice wasn’t Marcus’s—nor was it anything like the faint sound that she’d previously heard. This one was more distinct, more intimate.Harlan Blythe.It dawned on her with a sudden and powerful shock. She remembered the very same voice from the old recordings that she had found in the archives. It was definitely him—communicating with her, in some way, from the place where he was.“The breach is connected to the clock he gave you,” Blythe said very quietly. “It’s what the breach is using to come back. Get rid of it before the minute changes.”Elena shook her head, looking all over the room. The metal clock was lying on the table, making a soft ticking sound, and it seemed to be the last thing in the world that would cause a danger. She moved toward it——but the door of the shop was opening with a slow, quiet creak behind her.Marcus Hale was coming in, and the edges of his body were a little indistinct, as if he hadn’t fully changed back after the breach. His eyes were shining with a very weak light, the sign of something quite alien still inside him."This time, you are earlier," he murmured.She was nearly suffocated by her own heartbeat. Earlier this time—he must have known this loop already. Possibly a great number of times.In a move almost loving, Marcus came closer, his hands up. "Elena, we don't need to be at war. I think you can sense it right now—you were there in the breach. You understand the folds. The infinite.""What I really do," she said, definitely losing her temper, "is see someone deciding the fate of a broken machine."Marcus chuckled a little. “Time is already out of whack. I’m the one who’s fixing it.”The clocks around them emitted a faint buzz with every minute that was about to pass.11:06:4111:06:4211:06:43He moved forward with another step. “If you give me the key and the clock. I’ll be the one to calm down the breach. I’ll bring Harlan back.”Elena’s voice caught in her throat. “He doesn’t want that.”For the first time Marcus’s face changed; it was something like anger—no, desperation—just a glimpse. “Because he didn’t know how to get through the gap, he was the one who lost. But I’m the one who knows.”She was moving toward the workbench, trying to buy some seconds—very important seconds. “You locked him in, Marcus. Don’t fool yourself that you’re the one who saves him.”“I enclosed him,” Marcus retaliated sharply. “The breach was the one that was making it hard for him, so I’m the one who saved him.”The lights flickered. The air got heavier. The moment was swiftly moving to its point of rupture.11:06:5211:06:5311:06:54The voice whispered again; this time it was more urgent and scared."Destroy it, Elena. Right now."Marcus sprang.Elena seized the brass clock and threw it with the utmost power of her body. It collided with the opposite wall; mechanisms tore apart like small fragments of brass shrapnel. The ticking stopped immediately.The shop took a deep breath——but it quickly let it go again, this time in a very violent way.An energetic wave radiated from the center, hitting Marcus on one side and sending him flying onto the floor. His body was glitching, as if he were a malfunctioning digital image.“No, no, no!” He shouted, his voice breaking and doubling, tripling in number. “You broke the anchor—”Hearing that, Elena covered her eyes as the place became unbearably bright. The clocks trembled. Pendulums swung. Glasses shattered.Marcus’s shadow divided into three jagged shapes and then merged into one, a barely visible figure.“You don’t understand what you are doing,” he gasped, his voice muffled and mixing with the static. “This was my time—my—”And then his body exploded into a shaft of light that quickly disappeared like a candle being blown out.The brightness disappeared.Quietness came.The clocks were silent—each and every one of them, without a trace of life and motion.Elena got up from the ground, holding her breath. The atmosphere was back to its usual state. It was still heavy, but it was also real. Time was compared to dust that had just fallen to the floor.After that, drifting gently through the silence, there was still one more whisper:“Thank you.”It was Harlan’s voice.Not confused. Not cold. Not trapped.Elena's eyes started to water unexpectedly.The next day, the townspeople put a fence around the building. “Dangerous building” was the verdict of the officials who didn’t suspect the real story of the place. The workers closed the shop with planks; the ancient clock shop was at rest at last.Later on, Elena only had one item of remembrance from the incident: the little brass cog that she had found lying on the ground after the blast. She kept it on her table, the metal being quite old but still warm to the hand.It didn’t move even once.It didn’t make a sound.It didn’t shake.However, on quiet nights, when the world was still and too silent, she could swear that she heard it making a sound—a sound so soft that she couldn’t even decide whether it was the gear that was making the sound or the memory of a time that didn’t exist anymore.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock
Elena found herself lying on the wooden floor of the clock shop, cold and in pain. Her head was spinning, and the world was coming back to her sight out of darkness. There was dust in the air that seemed to drift without aim, and the streetlights' weak light, coming through the front windows, made the dust visible. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out where—or when—she was.Then she saw the clocks.Every single one of them was showing 11:06.She jumped upright. The anomaly wasn’t coming. It was going over again. She was inside the moment again—one minute before 11:07.Her watch was shaking with her hand. A slight vibration was going through the floorboards, as if the shop itself were breathing.A voice came through the silence, quiet and gentle like a breath.“Elena… listen carefully.”She stopped moving. That voice wasn’t Marcus’s—nor was it anything like the faint sound that she’d previously heard. This one was more distinct, more intimate.Harlan Blythe.It dawned on her with a sudden and powerful shock. She remembered the very same voice from the old recordings that she had found in the archives. It was definitely him—communicating with her, in some way, from the place where he was.“The breach is connected to the clock he gave you,” Blythe said very quietly. “It’s what the breach is using to come back. Get rid of it before the minute changes.”Elena shook her head, looking all over the room. The metal clock was lying on the table, making a soft ticking sound, and it seemed to be the last thing in the world that would cause a danger. She moved toward it——but the door of the shop was opening with a slow, quiet creak behind her.Marcus Hale was coming in, and the edges of his body were a little indistinct, as if he hadn’t fully changed back after the breach. His eyes were shining with a very weak light, the sign of something quite alien still inside him."This time, you are earlier," he murmured.She was nearly suffocated by her own heartbeat. Earlier this time—he must have known this loop already. Possibly a great number of times.In a move almost loving, Marcus came closer, his hands up. "Elena, we don't need to be at war. I think you can sense it right now—you were there in the breach. You understand the folds. The infinite.""What I really do," she said, definitely losing her temper, "is see someone deciding the fate of a broken machine."Marcus chuckled a little. “Time is already out of whack. I’m the one who’s fixing it.”The clocks around them emitted a faint buzz with every minute that was about to pass.11:06:4111:06:4211:06:43He moved forward with another step. “If you give me the key and the clock. I’ll be the one to calm down the breach. I’ll bring Harlan back.”Elena’s voice caught in her throat. “He doesn’t want that.”For the first time Marcus’s face changed; it was something like anger—no, desperation—just a glimpse. “Because he didn’t know how to get through the gap, he was the one who lost. But I’m the one who knows.”She was moving toward the workbench, trying to buy some seconds—very important seconds. “You locked him in, Marcus. Don’t fool yourself that you’re the one who saves him.”“I enclosed him,” Marcus retaliated sharply. “The breach was the one that was making it hard for him, so I’m the one who saved him.”The lights flickered. The air got heavier. The moment was swiftly moving to its point of rupture.11:06:5211:06:5311:06:54The voice whispered again; this time it was more urgent and scared."Destroy it, Elena. Right now."Marcus sprang.Elena seized the brass clock and threw it with the utmost power of her body. It collided with the opposite wall; mechanisms tore apart like small fragments of brass shrapnel. The ticking stopped immediately.The shop took a deep breath——but it quickly let it go again, this time in a very violent way.An energetic wave radiated from the center, hitting Marcus on one side and sending him flying onto the floor. His body was glitching, as if he were a malfunctioning digital image.“No, no, no!” He shouted, his voice breaking and doubling, tripling in number. “You broke the anchor—”Hearing that, Elena covered her eyes as the place became unbearably bright. The clocks trembled. Pendulums swung. Glasses shattered.Marcus’s shadow divided into three jagged shapes and then merged into one, a barely visible figure.“You don’t understand what you are doing,” he gasped, his voice muffled and mixing with the static. “This was my time—my—”And then his body exploded into a shaft of light that quickly disappeared like a candle being blown out.The brightness disappeared.Quietness came.The clocks were silent—each and every one of them, without a trace of life and motion.Elena got up from the ground, holding her breath. The atmosphere was back to its usual state. It was still heavy, but it was also real. Time was compared to dust that had just fallen to the floor.After that, drifting gently through the silence, there was still one more whisper:“Thank you.”It was Harlan’s voice.Not confused. Not cold. Not trapped.Elena's eyes started to water unexpectedly.The next day, the townspeople put a fence around the building. “Dangerous building” was the verdict of the officials who didn’t suspect the real story of the place. The workers closed the shop with planks; the ancient clock shop was at rest at last.Later on, Elena only had one item of remembrance from the incident: the little brass cog that she had found lying on the ground after the blast. She kept it on her table, the metal being quite old but still warm to the hand.It didn’t move even once.It didn’t make a sound.It didn’t shake.However, on quiet nights, when the world was still and too silent, she could swear that she heard it making a sound—a sound so soft that she couldn’t even decide whether it was the gear that was making the sound or the memory of a time that didn’t exist anymore.
iNPC: Alexander Whitlock