The Clockmaker's Fractured Hours

The workshop smelled of oil and old wood. Brass gears caught the afternoon light through high windows. Dust motes danced in the shafts.

Elias Vogel bent over the 1740 Austrian longcase clock. His fingers steady on the escapement mechanism. Two years of grief had taught his hands precision.

The overlapping tick-tock rhythms filled the narrow shop. Grandfather clocks lined the walls like silent sentinels. Shelf clocks crowded the workbenches alongside精密 tools.

A mechanical heartbeat. His only companion now.

He turned the调整 key. The mainspring tensed beneath his touch. Clock oil glistened on brass surfaces.

The clock hands moved toward 3:47 PM.

Elias checked his pocket watch. Compulsive habit. His thumb rubbed the smooth metal case.

Then the clock chimed.

Not the usual musical note. Something deeper. A vibration that rattled the glass case.

Elias stepped back. His pulse hammered against his ribs.

Inside the clock face, fog swirled. Gray mist coiled where brass gears should be.

The fog cleared. A street appeared. Vienna cobblestones. Baroque facades. The Graben at twilight.

Elias leaned closer. His breath fogged the glass.

A girl stepped into view. Sixteen years old. Charcoal sketchbook under one arm.

Clara.

Elias's fingers pressed against the case. "No."

She moved across the miniature street. A portfolio slipped from her grasp. Pages scattered across cobblestones.

She bent to retrieve them. Her hair twisted around one finger. A nervous habit she'd had since childhood.

A carriage rounded the corner. Horses iron-shod on wet stone. The driver pulled reins too late.

The horses spooked. Eyes rolling white. They surged forward.

Clara looked up. Her eyes wide. Her mouth formed a single word.

Papa.

Elias screamed. His fist struck the glass. The case shattered into a thousand shards.

He reached through the broken frame. His fingers closed on empty air.

The fog swirled again. The street dissolved. The Graben vanished.

Elias stumbled back. His chest heaved. The workshop walls shimmered like damaged silk.

He fumbled for his pocket watch. Flipped it open.

The hands spun backward. Counter-clockwise. Faster and faster.

The workshop blurred around him. The clocks overlapped. Their tick-tock rhythms became a roar.

Elias sank to his knees. His hands shook uncontrollably.

The 1740 clock chimed again. 3:47 PM.

The reset had begun.