Mystery
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The Gears of Regret
I have spent my whole life looking through a tiny glass lens, staring at the guts of watches. Most people in this town are like cheap clocks: loud, shiny on the outside, but full of plastic parts that break the moment things get tough. Take Maren, for example. She wears a diamond watch that cost…
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The Brass Heartbeat
Jules sat at his workbench with a tiny screwdriver in his hand. His fingers did not shake: but his mind did. The workshop was a forest of ticking sounds. There were big clocks that sounded like heavy boots on wood. There were small watches that clicked like nervous teeth. Jules loved these sounds. They were…
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The Dead Weight of the Second Hand
Benny’s fingers were thick and calloused. He lost his sight to a flash of white heat ten years ago. Since that day, the world was a cold and silent place. He needed the clocks to feel alive. If the ticking ever stopped, Benny felt like he was buried under six feet of dirt. He lived…
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The Faceless Hour
Beckett was the best clockmaker in the world, but three weeks ago, the world stopped making sense. It happened on a Tuesday. He looked at his wife, and her face was gone. Not literally gone. He could see her nose, her eyes, and her mouth. But his brain refused to put them together into a…
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The Iron Heart in the Fog
Maury had hands that looked like topographical maps of a desert. They were dry, cracked, and stained with the kind of black grease that never truly washes off. He spent his days with a grease gun and a rag, making sure the giant brass gears of the lighthouse still turned. The government had cut the…
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The Copper Heart’s Promise
Sol lived by a simple code: if you can’t fix it, you can’t trust it. He kept his workshop like a bunker. He had three gallons of water under the sink, a rack of canned peaches, and a collection of clocks that ticked like a thousand steady heartbeats. The clocks were the only things that…
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The Heartbeat in the Brass
Gus lived his life like he was bracing for an earthquake that was twenty years late. To most people, being blind is a tragedy. To Gus, it was a tactical advantage. He knew his workshop better than a soldier knows his rifle. He could find a tiny brass screw in a drawer full of junk…
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One Hundred Blank Faces
Trudy lived on the edge of the world where the gray ocean chewed at the sharp rocks. She spent her days polishing the great glass lens of the lighthouse. To most folks, a face is a map. They see a nose or a pair of blue eyes and they know exactly who they are talking…
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The Gears of the Forgotten
Miles looked at his wife, Elena, across the breakfast table. He knew it was her because of the blue wool sweater and the way she smelled like toasted cinnamon. But her face was gone. In its place was a smooth, pale blur, like a thumbprint wiped across a wet painting. He tried to find her…
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The Gears of the Dead
Mick was a man who lived by the tick. He sat in a shop that smelled like old oil and dry wood. The walls were covered in clocks. They all hummed and clicked like a thousand tiny hearts beating at once. Mick liked that. Clocks never forgot what time it was. Clocks didn’t have brains…