The Clockmaker’s Secret
Time doesn’t heal all wounds — sometimes, it brings them back.
In a forgotten alley stood an old clock shop. No one went there anymore — except me. I’d inherited it from my grandfather, who vanished fifty years ago.
As I cleaned the shelves one evening, I found a pocket watch engraved with my initials… but it was old, rusted, and the date on the back read 2075.
When I wound it, the world around me blurred. The ticking grew louder — faster — until everything froze. Outside, neon lights glowed in languages I didn’t recognize. Hovercars zipped by.
A man entered — same eyes as mine, just older.
He smiled. “Took you long enough to catch up.”
The watch ticked once more… and I was gone.
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fairy girl
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