Borrowed Time

The clockmaker’s shop was the kind of place you didn’t notice until you needed it.

It sat between a bakery and a pawn shop, its dusty windows filled with broken watches and rusted gears.

A small sign above the door read:

“For Sale: Time — Old and New.”

Evan Cole almost walked past it that evening. He had never noticed it before, even though he took that street every day after work. But something about that sign stopped him.

He was late — for everything these days — late for meetings, for bills, for life itself. He had just turned thirty-five, and his world felt like a series of ticking clocks he could never keep up with.

He sighed, looked at his dead wristwatch, and pushed open the door.

🕰️ The Clockmaker

The shop smelled of oil, metal, and something older — almost like dust and rain mixed together.

Behind the counter stood a thin old man in a brown vest, polishing a pocket watch that gleamed like liquid gold.

“Good evening,” the man said without looking up. His voice was calm, heavy with years. “Something broken?”

“My watch stopped working,” Evan replied, showing him the cheap digital thing on his wrist.

The man smiled faintly. “No, not that kind of time.”

Evan frowned. “Excuse me?”

The clockmaker pointed to a glass case behind him. Inside were dozens of pocket watches — all ticking at different speeds. Some raced; some crawled.

“Every man runs on borrowed time,” the clockmaker said softly. “I only sell reminders of it.”

Evan chuckled nervously. “That’s a good line for tourists.”

The man met his eyes. “I don’t sell to tourists.”

⌛ The Deal

One watch, in particular, caught Evan’s eye — small, silver, and engraved with the initials E.C.

“My initials,” Evan murmured.

“Ah,” the clockmaker said, smiling. “Then it’s yours.”

Evan laughed. “Right. How much?”

The man’s smile didn’t change. “It’s already been paid for.”

Evan hesitated. “By who?”

“You,” said the man. “You paid with time.”

Evan blinked. “That’s nonsense.”

The old man turned the watch over. On its back was a countdown: 36:00:00 — thirty-six hours.

“What is this?” Evan asked.

“How much you have left,” the clockmaker said. “When it reaches zero, time collects its debt.”

Evan smirked. “Cute trick.”

He set a few bills on the counter. “Keep the change.”

“Time doesn’t take money,” the man said quietly. “Only time.”

But Evan had already walked out.

🕰️ The Countdown Begins

The next morning, the watch ticked softly in his pocket — though he swore he hadn’t wound it.

35:10:24.

He smiled. “What a weird coincidence.”

But strange things began to happen.

At work, the lights flickered, freezing for half a second while everyone else moved normally.

On the street, cars slowed, sound stretched.

And sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, Evan saw faint blurs of people — like ghosts running in reverse.

He told himself it was stress, exhaustion. But every hour, the number on the watch kept falling.

29:59:10.

That night, he dreamed of ticking sounds — hundreds of watches whispering in the dark: Borrowed… borrowed… borrowed…

💔 The Second Chance

The following day, Evan received a phone call.

“Mr. Cole? It’s St. Mercy Hospital. Your mother has woken up.”

His heart stopped. His mother had been in a coma for seven years after a car accident. Doctors had said she’d never recover.

He rushed to the hospital — and there she was. Pale, weak, but smiling.

“Evan,” she whispered. “You look older.”

He laughed through tears. “You have no idea.”

They talked for hours — real hours, the kind that felt eternal.

When he left that night, he checked the watch.

23:59:59.

He didn’t remember it ticking that fast before.

⏰ The Stranger

Outside the hospital, a man in a black coat stood waiting. His face was hidden by the shadow of a streetlamp.

“Nice watch,” the man said.

Evan froze. “What?”

The man smiled slightly. “You got it from the shop on Halloway Street, didn’t you? The one that shouldn’t exist.”

Evan stepped back. “Who are you?”

The stranger tilted his head. “Someone who made the same mistake.”

He held up his wrist. Around it was another silver watch, identical — except its numbers were at 00:00:12.

The watch beeped once. The man’s eyes widened — and he vanished.

Not a scream, not a trace — just gone.

Evan ran.

⏳ The Desperation

Back at his apartment, he tore the watch off and threw it into the sink. But even from the other room, he could still hear it ticking — muffled, but clear.

He tried smashing it with a hammer. The metal dented, but the ticking grew louder.

He grabbed his phone and dialed the number on the shop’s receipt. It rang once — then a voice whispered, “You can’t buy time back, Mr. Cole.”

He dropped the phone.

On the wall clock, the hands began to spin backward.

His reflection in the window smiled — a second before he did.

🕯️ The Clockmaker Returns

At exactly 12:00:00, there was a knock at his door.

The old clockmaker stood there, calm as ever.

“I told you,” he said, stepping inside. “You can’t borrow without paying.”

Evan shouted, “What do you want from me?”

The clockmaker looked at the ticking watch in Evan’s hand. “You’ve already spent what was left. I’m here to collect the rest.”

Evan backed away. “No! You can’t—”

But the man raised his hand, and suddenly, the world around them froze. The sound of the city died. Even the air stopped moving.

“Thirty-six hours,” the clockmaker said softly. “That’s what you bought. You spent most of it talking to your mother. Worth it, wasn’t it?”

Evan trembled. “You’re saying she— she’ll go back into a coma?”

The man smiled sadly. “No. You will.”

⚡ The Trade

Desperation flooded him. “Please,” Evan begged. “I’ll give anything. Take my memories, my years — anything but now.”

The clockmaker paused. “Anything?”

Evan nodded quickly.

The man handed him the watch. “Then wind it backward. But remember — what you take from time, time will take from someone else.”

Evan didn’t understand. He turned the knob anyway.

The ticking reversed.

Suddenly, the city came alive again — in reverse. Cars backed up, rain flew upward, and people moved like film rewinding.

The countdown reset to 36:00:00.

Evan gasped in relief. “It worked.”

But across the city, in a hospital bed, his mother’s heart monitor went flat.

💀 The Ending

He dropped to his knees as realization hit.

He had stolen her remaining time.

The clockmaker placed a hand on his shoulder. “Borrowed time always comes from somewhere.”

Evan screamed, clutching the watch, trying to smash it again — but now it was fused to his skin.

The numbers began to fall faster than ever.

35:00:00

28:00:00

19:00:00

The old man turned to leave. “You wanted more time, Mr. Cole. Now you’ll live every second — again and again.”

And as he stepped out, the door faded behind him, leaving Evan alone in a frozen room, the watch glowing faintly.

He looked out the window.

Down below, the world moved — the same people, same day, over and over again.

He pressed his hand against the glass, whispering, “Please, let it stop.”

The watch ticked one final time — then reset.

36:00:00.

The world began again.