The Clock That Ticked Backwards”

Part 1: The Discovery

I had never seen a clock like that before.

It wasn’t beautiful or fancy. It had a plain wooden frame, a cracked glass face, and bold black numbers. But what made it unusual wasn’t how it looked — it was how it behaved.

It ticked backwards.

I found it in my late grandfather’s attic, wrapped in old newspapers from the 1980s. The hands of the clock moved counter-clockwise. Not broken… just reversed. And oddly, it still made that familiar ticking sound.

I was 23 years old, fresh out of college, jobless, and emotionally lost. My grandfather had passed away two months earlier, and my family had left the house to me. I decided to explore the attic out of boredom, but that strange clock gave me something new — curiosity.

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Part 2: The Change

That night, I hung the backward clock in my bedroom as a joke. But when I woke up the next day, something strange had happened.

My phone had notifications from yesterday.

The news on TV was talking about an accident that had already happened — as if it hadn’t yet.

And when I looked at my emails, the messages I had sent were now unsent.

I shook it off as stress or a dream. But the next day, it happened again. And again.

Everything was moving backward — not fast, not in reverse like a movie — just… undoing itself day by day.

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Part 3: Living Backwards

I started keeping a journal. Day by day, my life was un-happening.

• People I met began “forgetting” they knew me.

• My bank account showed deposits disappearing.

• The cut on my arm from last week? Healed — and then vanished entirely.

And one morning, I woke up to find my grandmother alive again.

She was cooking breakfast in the kitchen like she used to, singing softly to herself. She died when I was 15.

I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. She saw me, smiled, and said,

“You’re up early today, Amir. Want some parathas?”

I played along. But my hands trembled as I ate.

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Part 4: The Rule of the Clock

I realized something terrifying. The world around me was rewinding only because the backward clock was still ticking.

I ran an experiment. I took the batteries out.

Next morning — normal time.

The phone, the news, the messages — all current again.

My grandmother? Gone again.

I didn’t know if I was relieved or heartbroken. That clock had the power to bring back people, undo mistakes, and erase trauma. But at what cost?

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Part 5: Temptation

After a bad fight with my ex-girlfriend Zara a year ago, we never spoke again. But now… if I let the clock run, would time rewind enough for me to fix things?

So I started letting the clock tick again. One day at a time, the calendar moved backward.

Eventually, I saw her again.

We crossed paths “accidentally” at a coffee shop like we once had. She smiled.

We talked.

We laughed.

We fell back into each other’s rhythm like nothing ever broke.

But deep inside, I knew this wasn’t real — it was borrowed time.

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Part 6: The Warning

Then came the worst part.

My younger brother Ray had died in a road accident two years ago. The clock had almost rewound to that time.

I knew that if I let it keep going, he’d be back.

And sure enough, one morning — there he was, sitting on the couch, playing video games, teasing me like always.

I hugged him so hard he got confused.

“Okay man, you good? Why you acting like I came back from the dead?”

I laughed through my tears. “You have no idea…”

But then I realized: if the clock keeps ticking backwards… eventually, I will be a child again. Then a baby. Then… nothing.

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Part 7: The Choice

I had to decide.

Keep rewinding and enjoy borrowed time with loved ones?

Or stop the clock, accept the pain, and live forward?

The idea of losing my brother and grandmother again was unbearable.

But I also didn’t want to lose myself.

On a rainy night, I sat in front of the clock.

It was ticking. Backwards. Constant.

I took out the batteries one last time.

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Part 8: Moving Forward

I buried the clock behind my house the next day. Wrapped in plastic. Deep enough that I’d never accidentally dig it up.

Some nights, I still hear that ticking in my dreams.

A part of me always wonders:

What if I let it tick for just one more day?

But I’ve learned something.

We can’t undo time.

We can only live it better next time.

Mistakes. Loss. Love. Pain.

They’re all part of the story.