short fiction · 2026-10-31

The Clockmaker's Apprentice

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

The gear teeth caught the light at 3:47, each one a tiny mirror. Mara had been told never to oil the escapement on a Tuesday — something about the humidity, the master said, though he never explained why. She watched the pendulum swing, counted forty-two beats before the minute hand shuddered forward. The shop smelled of brass dust and old varnish. Outside, rain tapped the cobblestones. She touched the balance wheel with her fingertip, felt the vibration travel up her nail, a small secret passed between metal and skin. The master would return at six. Until then, the clock kept its own counsel, and so did she.