Stay by Shevy Meeker

Stay by Shevy Meeker

Chapter 1
In a small town lived an elderly clockmaker named Clara. Though her skill was unmatched in crafting exquisite timepieces, only she knew they contained a touch of magic—each was enchanted to run with perfect time.

One day, a peculiar man entered Clara’s shop. “I hear you can make clocks that manipulate time,” he proclaimed sternly.

Clara’s heart sank. How could he know her secret? She steadied her voice. “You must be mistaken, sir. My clocks are ordinary, albeit finely crafted.”

The man leaned In close pressing his fist against the counter. “I know you possess a special gift,” he whispered. “Craft me a clock that can turn back time.”

Clara stood rigid, alarmed that this stranger somehow knew of her magical talent. To turn back time was an enchantment she had never dared attempt. She denied his request, but the determined man vowed to return for the clock.

After he left, Clara’s mind raced. She had kept her power completely hidden for decades. Yet this mysterious man intended to claim her gift for himself. Clara felt uneasy, unsure of what trouble could unfold if she agreed to make such a powerful and dangerous device.

Chapter 2
The harsh winter wind lashed at Clara’s tear-stained cheeks as she stood atop the precipice, looking down into the yawning abyss below. The cold numbness in her bones mirrored the hollow ache that had taken up residence in her heart.

She was but a wilted rose, lovely petals browned and curled inwards, all merriment drained from her once bright spirit. The melody of life’s song had long gone flat in her ears.

As Clara closed her eyes against the whirling snow, she saw not the dizzying depths below, but the parade of moments that had led to this fateful night. A childhood of innocence lost too soon; tremulous first steps into an unforgiving adulthood; the false comforts of those who promised refuge but delivered only pain. Clara embraced it all, taking ownership of her grief.

She breathed in the icy air, exhaling a long, ragged plume of misery. At last, release beckoned.

Yet as Clara’s spirit prepared to abandon its broken vessel, a voice seemed to cry out from deep within her—the voice of that wide-eyed girl who still clung to hope’s fading embers. In this instant between oblivion and salvation, the voice spoke urgently through Clara’s silent lips:

“Stay.”

As if in response, a stranger emerged from the snowy shadows behind her, extending a hand. In Clara’s darkest hour, her will to survive had summoned a guardian to preserve a life so nearly lost.

Time itself slowed to a crawl as the man called desperately for rescue, refusing to release Clara from life’s clutches. Within her very blood, Clara felt the kindling of a new power—a gift from her deepest self, affirmed by actions of another.

Chapter 3

Clara awoke alone in a sterile hospital room, the steady beep of monitors slowly stirring her to consciousness. As her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent lights, fragmented memories began to surface—the wind-whipped snow, the icy cliffside, the yawning void that beckoned below.

Yet somehow, impossibly, she had survived. Clara recalled the stranger’s firm grip pulling her back from the brink and the tortuous wait for rescue to arrive. Time had seemed to crawl to a near halt as icy darkness crept into her bones.

Over the next few days, Clara pieced together what had happened. The doctors spoke of a miracle, astonished she had endured such cold long enough to be saved. But Clara knew the truth—in that hour of desperation, she had unconsciously tapped into a power she never knew she possessed.

As her strength gradually returned, Clara practiced subtly slowing time’s passage around her. A falling teardrop frozen in mid-air, seconds stretched into minutes. She could not reverse time’s flow, only delay it. This gift felt meant for small moments of solace, not grand manipulations.

With no family left, Clara found herself alone and adrift upon leaving the hospital. While pondering her path, she passed by a watchmaker’s shop and paused, mesmerized by the intricate gears. She then knew her calling—to craft timepieces and, through them, subtly channel her power over time.

In the years that followed, Clara’s reputation for impeccable watches grew quickly. Only she knew they hid enchantments to gently slow time’s flow for the wearer as needed. Her own wounds slowly healed as she imbued each watch with a touch of the magic that had saved her life. Where once she sought to end time forever, now she learned to bend it to precious purpose.

Chapter 4

The clanging shop bell jolted Clara from her melancholy reverie. There, in her doorway, stood the ominous stranger, returned after several days.

“I’ve come for the clock,” he announced.

Clara’s heart clenched. She had hoped this day would never come, that the man’s dark request would fade. Yet here he was, seeking control over forces that had nearly destroyed her long ago.

“It’s not ready,” Clara lied. The clock sat wrapped in cloth atop her workbench, dormant. She had succeeded in imbuing it with the power to unwind time, but could not bring herself to hand it over.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “You swore to uphold your end of our bargain.”

Clara hesitated. Since their first encounter, depression’s familiar grasp had slowly tightened around her once more. Each tick of the shop’s many clocks echoed the timeframe of her own mortality. The temptation to reverse time’s inexorable march pressed down upon her.

“Please,” Clara implored, “leave this dangerous magic be. Nothing good can come of it.”

The stranger stood firm. “You know not what I intend to rectify.”

Clara’s shoulders slumped in defeat. She retrieved the clock from its hiding place and surrendered it to the man’s outstretched hands. His fingers closed around it greedily.

With the stranger’s departure, Clara’s sadness swelled, mingling with growing unease. Had she just unleashed a force of unintended consequences? Would he fix a regret, or unlock a catastrophe? Her greatest fear, realized too late, was that this clock could unravel far more than mere minutes. It could unwind all that held her fate together.

Chapter 5

In the weeks after surrendering the timepiece, Clara found her thoughts consumed with rediscovering the stranger from her past. She had never learned the identity of the man who pulled her back from the abyss all those years ago. Perhaps if she could find him, he could provide answers about the mysterious visitor who had recently upended her life.

Clara ventured back to the snow-swept village where she had plummeted from the cliffside, now a faded memory. She searched for any traces of her savior, armed with amateur sleuthing skills garnered from evenings spent engrossed in true crime shows.

Knocking on the doors of the town’s oldest residents, Clara inquired about a man who had appeared mysteriously to rescue a young woman long ago. Most regarded her queries with confusion, unable to dredge up recollections of something so long past.

Wandering the village streets, Clara hunted for any clues that might unveil the identity of the stranger who had pulled her back from the void. But her efforts proved fruitless, leaving her with only dead ends and the growing winter chill.

As dusk fell on Clara’s final day in town, she stood once more on that windswept cliff where her fate had diverged so dramatically. The icy plunge called to her still, as did the temptation to rewind time’s unwavering passage. But Clara turned away, conceding the stranger’s identity would remain concealed, like memories buried under layers of snow.

She boarded the homeward train, clutching her coat tightly against the creeping cold. Clara still hoped to unlock secrets that had lain dormant for decades. But for now, time would preserve its mysteries.

Chapter 6

The train rolled into Clara’s station, though she barely noticed its arrival, lost in melancholy thought. As she shuffled home, Clara’s neighbor intercepted her, frantic.

“Someone broke into your shop while you were away! They made a horrible mess but I couldn’t see who it was.”

Clara’s pulse quickened. She rushed to her store, swinging open the battered door. Her eyes widened at the chaos within—drawers upended, tools strewn about, clocks smashed.

Amidst the wreckage on the counter, one timepiece remained untouched—the forbidden clock she had surrendered just days prior. Clara’s hands trembled as she examined it. Not a scratch or dent marred its polished surface.

Clara’s mind reeled. Hadn’t she already handed over this cursed object that could unravel time? Or had that merely been a vivid dream? The break-in cast doubt on her recollection.

As Clara righted the toppled furniture, she strained to separate reality from illusion. Had she imagined the stranger’s ominous visit and dire request? No, the foreboding feelings it stirred in her were real. This clock’s existence confirmed that.

For days, Clara polished and repaired her damaged shop, all while the mystifying timepiece ticked ominously in the corner. Each click echoed like a hammer blow upon the fragile constructs of her memory.

Try as she might, Clara could not determine if the stranger had truly come and gone before her trip, or if she had simply surrendered the clock to a treacherous figment of her weary mind. But the consequences of her actions, real or imagined, might soon prove all too devastatingly real.

Chapter 7

Clara awoke with a start, her heart pounding. Bright light flooded the room from an unseen source. As her eyes adjusted, a figure came into focus—the ominous stranger, returned once more.

“Do you remember that snowy cliffside all those years ago?” he asked. “I found you just in time, though the chill had nearly finished its work.”

Clara’s blood turned to ice in her veins. How could he know the details of that fateful night, unless…

The man continued recounting private memories only Clara’s savior could possess. Then he spoke of the clock, the bargain they had struck. Realization crashed over Clara like an icy wave. This man represented both strangers—her guardian and destroyer entwined.

“Why have you returned?” Clara demanded, rising to her feet. “What evil purpose does that clock serve?”

The stranger’s mouth twisted into a cruel grin. “With it, I can rewrite our shared past. I will simply refrain from saving the desperate, foolish girl teetering on the cliff’s edge so long ago. She will meet the fate she chose.”

Clara’s hands clenched into fists, fury coursing through her. This man, this darker incarnation of her younger self, sought to undo the vital second chance she had scratched out all those years ago.

“You shall not steal my life from me” Clara shouted, voice ringing with conviction.

The two flung accusations and recriminations at each other, their argument spinning faster and faster. Clara grappled for control over her destiny once more. She could not, would not, allow this stranger to unravel the threads of hope she had clung to then and now. Her ferocity grew, fueled by the flickering embers of resilience within.

Chapter 8

“I won’t let you undo all I’ve built!” Clara cried, chest heaving with exertion. Her pulse thundered as she stared defiantly at the sneering stranger.

In a fleeting instant, their eyes locked and Clara glimpsed a familiar pain buried in those dark pupils—a tortured anguish she herself had known. In the stranger’s gnarled hands, she now saw only her own aged fingers. His visage seemed to shift, merging with her reflection.

With dawning horror, Clara realized this man was no outsider. He was a projection of her own psyche, a physical embodiment of old wounds and regrets. This darker version of herself sought to travel back and surrender to the cold abyss once more.

“No!” Clara shouted, grabbing her doppelgänger’s wrists. “I’ve worked too hard.”

The apparition wrestled against her grip. “You are weak and undeserving of life,” it spat viciously. “Succumb to death’s solace as you were meant to.”

Clara felt her strength faltering against the furious stranger. Then deep within, a defiant ember flared in her soul once more—that same will to endure and prosper that had saved her before. She embraced this fiery light, using it to force the stranger to his knees until he shrank and faded into nothingness.

Silence hung over Clara’s empty shop. She had conquered her demons and reclaimed dominion over her fate. Though old sorrows still lingered in quiet moments, tonight her spirit burned bright, victorious and alive.

Chapter 9

In the weeks following the stranger’s defeat, Clara felt a new lightness in her steps. Her shop gleamed, restored to order, and each morning she arose with fresh purpose.

Yet remnants of darkness still plagued her dreams at times. Clara knew the shadows were a part of her—old wounds that left scars. On difficult nights, she kindled her inner fire and banished the ghosts before dawn’s first light.

When the old pains surfaced, Clara closed her eyes and listened for the voice that had cried out to save her long ago. In low moments, it whispered still. “Stay,” it insisted, and her heart found its familiar strength.

Clara continued crafting her magical watches, imbuing each with a touch of time’s flow. But now her clients were those weary souls who needed respite, not power. The watches eased burdens rather than reshaping destinies. Clara’s gift affirmed life’s small moments instead of tempting fate’s grand designs.

As seasons changed, Clara felt the stranger’s unrest fading within her like the last frost of winter yielding to spring. Her purpose was renewed, to give hope to others as it had once been given to her.

On her windowsill, Clara placed a single timepiece set to run forever at the perfect pace of a life reclaimed. Whenever she glanced upon its steady hands, she saw her own, crafting each new day with grace. The time for darkness had passed. Clara’s light was as unbound now as her time.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Shevy Meeker 2023