There was something strange about this clock, although she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Nor would she have been able to tell you how she knew something was off. She just kind of... knew.
Fingers trembling slightly, she turned the clock over and over in her hands. Finally, scraping all of her courage together, she wound it up.
Regret came instantly, as the fabric of time started to tear and reshape around her. She saw the past fly by, so many present times at once, and scenes of what she could only presume was the future.
Then, at last, there was nothing.
YOU ARE READING
Tiny Stories Part 2
Short StoryMy second collection of microfiction, sometimes dealing with the mundane, but mostly dealing with the magical. Unlike the first collection, the stories in this one are based on inktober prompts.
