The Clock's Regret

Prologue: We only have so much time with each other.

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In the dank silence of a musty, neglected room, I waited.

I once ticked away with pride, my hands gliding with purpose over the continuous thrum of gears. I stood towering in the corner of the dining room, each second guiding my pendulum, a witness to the sentimental moments of the family that occupied it.

The husband, a lawyer, and his stay-at-home wife had the privilege of sharing many joyous moments with their equally brilliant children, both gifted linguists and musicians.

Without them realizing it, I embraced the depth of their lives, the raucous sounds of their laughter, the joyous shouts of the children when they earned their accolades and trophies, and the secretive whispers of late-night conversations as the husband discussed his cases with his wife. But time, my master, displayed his cruelty.

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The children left, one by one, to pursue their lives and interests. The house became an empty box, and I continued ticking alone. Dust, my only companion, caked on my face, and the once resonant echoes of life faded into the corridors. No one oiled my gears anymore. No one heard my dutiful chimes. My hands kept moving, but the movement was pointless without them.

Then one day, the door creaked open after decades of total silence.

I had not heard a human voice in so long that the footsteps of the couple that walked in felt like thunder. They were quiet, reserved, withholding their feelings like fragile glass.I knew the type. I had seen it before in the family that once graced the corridors—regret a deadweight between them, chains of unspoken words, love drained by years of tension.

“This place is unfit for living,” the woman’s voice was a low growl. Her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. I could feel the weight that slumped her shoulders , though I had no hands to help her lift it.

“We can do something with it,” the man was almost defensive, but his voice lacked conviction. He walked past me, ignoring my presence, just running his fingers along the dust-ridden furniture. “It suits us fine…….we can stay here until we separate.”

The heaviness of life had broken these two, I realised. But there was hope for them yet. Though time had chipped some of their essence away, I could feel it—like the calm before a storm. An invisible string tethered them together, their relationship worth salvaging.

And I had only Chronos to accompany me. But even he, Time, couldn’t return the family that abandoned me. Time, he who had slipped through my gears and disappeared into the abyss of silence. But perhaps, just perhaps, I could get some of Him back for this young couple, rescue them, and myself.

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So I slowed the movements of my hands and the buzz of my gears.

At first, the change was subtle. The man stood in front of me, glancing at his watch, a befuddled look creasing his already stressed features further. “Did you hear that?” he asked his wife. She shook her head, the images of her tablet occupying her.

I slowed Time further. The room felt dense, and every movement seemed to take more effort than usual. The woman stopped scrolling and looked up, as if pulled from a trance. Her eyes scanned the room, finally falling on the mantelpiece where family photos used to rest. She walked over to it, her footsteps slower with each step she took, as if she were walking through swamp and mud.

“This place…” she murmured, “It feels like it’s trapped in time.”

She didn’t know how right she was.

The man joined her, standing close but not touching. They stared at the vacant mantelpiece, the enormity of what they weren’t saying filling the room. I knew that silence well—it was the same silence that had filled this house before the family left. The silence of those, once close, now grown hopelessly apart.

I had to help them. I couldn’t let this house see another broken family. The one I had failed to help.

What did I do? I stopped Chronos. I stopped time.

The world held its breath for a brief moment. The movement of my hands ceased, and the air grew dense with something unseen. The couple, now froze. in place, In that very second, memories flooded the room—flashes of their past, the images they had buried, both ugly and beautiful. The beauty and joy of their wedding, initmate late night conversations, the first fights, the visions took form.

They blinked, and time went on.

“What are we doing?” the woman asked, her voice finally shattering the silence.

The man gazed at her, truly looked at her, for the first time in what seemed like a decade. “I don’t know.”

They remained at the mantelpiece, side by side, not touching, but not avoiding each other either. While their angst wasn’t resolved, they had a reflective pause.

I began ticking again, slowly but surely. My pendulum swayed gently, pushing Chronos back into his normal flow. I had done my best. Second chances are rare, but I had given them one to make the best of.

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The couple continues to try. They even have plans for a child, their first in many years of marriage. I couldn’t save the family before, but I now ticked with a newfound purpose, and the house’s corridors, though sometimes quiet, have room for the new.