fiction

#40 The Clockmaker Revised

| Whitt’s End Art

“Be right there,” He yelled as he pulled up his jeans. The clockmaker headed from the back room to his workshop. There stood a man holding a pocket watch.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I heard you are the best clockmaker in the city.”

“I wouldn’t call myself the best, but I’m good.”

The customer laid the pocket watch on the counter.

The old clockmaker looked at it. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“Nor do I think you ever will. At least in your lifetime.”

“What

“I am from a time when winters are cold and long.”

“A time when winters are cold and long…are you trying to say you’re from the future?”

“Well, when I said I was from a time when…oh never mind. Can you fix my pocket watch or not?”

The clockmaker picked up the pocket watch and looked at it. “It’s not running.”

“I know it’s not running that is why I brought it to you. If the watch doesn’t run then I can’t return home.”

“I see.” The old clockmaker looked up. What he saw startled him. It was like he was looking in a mirror at a younger version of himself. “Who are you…young man?”

The time traveler looked at the old clockmaker. He was at a quandary on how to answer. He didn’t want to tell the old man too much. “Oh bother.”

“What?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice the resemblance.”

“Well I did’” The old clockmaker paused. “I hate to be blunt but who the hell are you?” 

“I’m…well…you’re..,”

The old man looked at the pocket watch. “Who got it right?”

“I don’t understand.”

“The pocket watch…who got it right? It is obviously used for time travel.”

“My grandfather…oh excuse me your great grandson. He took your notes and his father’s notes and created the prototype which my father perfected. The one you’re holding is the latest model.”

The old clockmaker sat there for a few moments trying to take it all in.

“Well, I did not expect this when I got up this morning.” He,looked down to the watch. “What happened to it that it doesn’t work?”

“I dropped it and the hand stopped moving.”

The old clockmaker reached over and grabbed a small screwdriver. He then gently pried the glass off the front. The hands of the watch dropped to the counter. He retrieved a pair of tweezers. He repositioned the hands on the small shaft and eased them back into position. He spun the hands until they were set for the current time. He placed the face back on and pushed it into place. The watch started to move. They both disappeared.

#38 Relax

| Whitt’s End Art

“Relax, there is no reason to be upset because someone doesn’t do what you want them to.”

“Yeah, don’t you think I know that? I’m not upset that Joe didn’t listen. I’m upset he took it upon himself to let the creature out without asking me first.”

“Really, what could happen?”

A sudden noise caught their attention. 

“What was that?”

The sound of bricks falling reverberated through the building. 

They looked at each other. “That is what could happen, Paul, that is what could happen.

“Jean, look I’m…”

“Don’t worry about it…we got us a creature to catch.”

#37 Compassionate Neighbors

| Whitt’s End Art

John looked out his front window.

“John, what are you doing”

“I’m looking over at the Walter’s house.”

“Why?” 

“I was over talking to Biil the other day. He’s been laid off from his job for a while…” John glanced back across the street. “The money is getting tight and he doesn’t know how he is going to make ends meet.”

John looked at his wife Gloria. “I’ve got an idea,” She left for a few moments then came back. “I made some calls.”

A little while later a car pulled up at the Walter’s and left some boxes.

#36 Dying Roses

| Whitt’s End Art

He held in his hands the dying roses. The last remnants of a life and love gone by. He slowly moved from where he stood and walked towards the grave stone. It was only a couple days before he stood here, tears streaming down his cheek as the pastor made his way through the service. Now he was back to bring her the last of her favorite flower, red roses. The roses were wilting but he knew she would’ve still loved them. 

“Good bye dear. We had 50 good years. I will miss you.”

He turned and shuffled off.