The Clock People

by Mark Roland Langdale

  The Clock People were soon gathered outside under the glass dome soaking wet as water slowly seeped into the glass face. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and shone down upon the face of the watch, which at least warmed them all up.

  ‘At least we’re not totally in the dark,’ one of the Elders proclaimed, stating the patently obvious as Elders had a mind to do, and often. Due to the water that had flooded the compartments of the watch combining with the sunlight, the face of the clock looked as if it had been coated with a fine layer of frost like on a cold winter’s morn.

  ‘I think we’re at a frost fair,’ Omnigus Prattles said trying to lighten the dark mood of his fellow clocketeers.

  ‘It’s like being in a cross between an aquarium and a submersible, more like,’ one of the old men coughed and spluttered as if about to expire like the mechanism.

  ‘What’s an aquarium?’ enquired a young boy with an angelic-looking face, looking as curious as young Miss Alice when she first set foot in Wonderland Gardens to find out what was what and where was where.

  ‘What’s a submersible?’ a young girl asked, looking as curious as a fish in a see-through bag caught at a funfair after it had been plonked unceremoniously into its new glass home, a goldfish bowl!

  ‘Don’t fill their heads with stories by H.G. Wells, Jules Verne and Lewis Carroll, not at a time like this!’ an old woman exclaimed ticking the old man off.

  ‘This is exactly the time for telling stories, it will take our minds off the perilous predicament we now find ourselves in,’ one of the Elders said wisely holding up a book entitled Gulliver’s Travels. All the while the water dripped into the watchface. For the Clock People it was like Chinese water torture. The ticking sound of the clock was the only sound of comfort until that stopped along with the hands. The hands stopped at just past twelve o’clock, although one young man imagined they had stopped at thirteen o’clock, whereas a young girl imagined the hands had stopped during the witching hour! If anybody found the watch and the little people drowned at least they would have known the time of their death.

  ‘Once upon a time there was a golden clock that resembled an old brass helmet where people like our good selves lived. Unlike our home it was waterproof,’ spoke the Clock Elder with great authority, taking the magic out of the tale even before it had got up a head of steam. The Elder was sitting cross-legged upon the white enamel dial of the clock surrounded by children, as if imagining he was the great teller of fairytales, Hans Christian Andersen. The way he was going he was going to send them off to sleep before he got past the prologue!

  Another crowd of people had gathered in the centre of the dial who were all down on their knees praying to the Clock God for salvation. Other folk of a more hopeful nature had propped ladders up against the sides of the face of the watch in the vain hope they could hold back the tides, if not time, by stuffing sheets and waterproof tarpaulins into the cracks.

  ‘Time’s up!’ Omnigus Prattles spat wishing he hadn’t. There were not many times Omnigus Prattles was lost for words and this wasn’t one of them, but at least it had stopped the endless torrent of words that streamed from his mouth like a river.

  Then a huge object appeared in the face of the glass moonstone. It was a river monster, a giant pike.

  ‘A monster, we’re done for!’ a woman cried, hiding her eyes as the pike bared its teeth, poking its head out of the water, half in the water and half sprawled upon the glass of the watch. The pike then sank down into the water where it could breathe more comfortably then swam around and around the clock, curious as to what it was and if in fact it was edible. The pike bashed its snout up against the side of the clock, which rocked it so violently it stirred up the silt on the bottom of the river.

  ‘Help, help, the end is nigh!’ came the collective cry from the people down on their knees inside the glass dome, a cry that only echoed around the dome as if it were a cathedral filled with large stained-glass windows… tick tock, tick…

  15

  The Return of the Time Warper

  An electric blue and aquamarine-coloured dragonfly sat peacefully on the river reeds as if watching for its prey, an insect it could catch with its long, coiled, tendril-like tongue. But the dragonfly was not watching for a quick snack or simply watching the river of time flow gently by. You see, its time was taken up in a more productive way developing the pictures it had taken not a few moments earlier when the magpie dropped the shiny object into the river. All of a sudden the miniature dragon flapped its four luminescent crepe-paper-like wings and took to the air. In no time at all the miniature flying machine was airborne. The dragonfly gracefully flew halfway down the river, skimming over the surface of the glass-like water with effortless ease. Then the dragonfly made a sharp right turn, landing on a willow tree where a kingfisher sat cleaning its feathers. The dragonfly appeared to hang in mid-air like a hummingbird, as if whispering something into the kingfisher’s ear. The head of the kingfisher darted this way and that, as if listening intently to what the dragonfly was telling it. The dragonfly, having said its piece, flew back upriver followed by the kingfisher, as if the dragonfly was towing the kingfisher behind it upon a single silver gossamer thread.

  Now back over the spot where the watch had entered the water the dragonfly and the kingfisher appeared to be surveying the scene as if aqua archaeologists rather than a couple of Mother Nature’s magnificent flying machines. A few seconds passed before the kingfisher climbed into the sky then turned and dove into the river at great speed, breaking the surface of the water. The kingfisher dove through the water, its waterproof feathers acting like the fins of a fish. It was used to locating food in this dark and murky environment, so quickly located the shiny golden object. The kingfisher had received help from above, not from the Clock God or Mother Nature but from the sun as it once again broke through the clouds and the water at this exact moment. In one smooth motion the kingfisher picked the chain of the fob watch up in its beak and pulled it towards the surface.

  For a split second a chain of water droplets appeared frozen in time as the sun shimmered upon them, then one by one the chain of water fell, hitting the water, plop, plop, plop – hardly poetry in motion but not bad, so thought Mother Nature as her smile lit up the landscape.

  ‘What, what’s going on?’ cried a woman holding her hands to her face as the watch shot through the water up towards the surface at great speed.

  ‘The light, we are being pulled towards the light by the Clock God. It won’t be long now. Heaven awaits us, a place where the real treasures are to be found,’ said a man of God, his hands clasped in prayer, or at least a man who believed in the Clock God. Perhaps he believed in God as well. Hedging one’s bets is not such a bad idea in dark times that are hard.

  The kingfisher kept flying upwards as water poured out of the mechanism of the watch. Water shot up once again like a geyser in a fjord in the Continent of Ice in the Land of Perpetual Winter.

  ‘We’re flying, we’re only flying, it’s a dream!’ shouted a boy looking out of the glass dome as the world flew past the window of the glass dome.

  ‘If we fall the dream will turn into a nightmare!’ cried old man Cole, who in truth was as unmerry an old soul as there had ever been.

  ‘They say time flies but this is ridiculous!’ muttered an old woman hanging onto her husband for dear life, who in turn was hanging onto the pinwheel the hands of the watch were attached to, as were most of the Clock People.

  ‘Flying, this must all be just a vivid dream,’ muttered one of the Clock Elders, who thought he had seen everything there was to see in his long lifetime. But far from it, there was so much more to see than he could ever have dreamt of, ever imagined in fact.

  The next thing the Clock People knew they were on the riverbank drying out, counting their blessings and the fact they and their treasured home were still in one piece.

  The Clock People
were hugging and kissing one another as if it were the end of a great war. It seemed they had been a part of a little miracle. Then as the water slowly seeped out of the clock face onto the riverbank the mechanism of the watch sprang into life.

  ‘Right, no time to sit and wonder, we must get back inside and dry out the mechanism so it doesn’t rust,’ Omnigus Prattles snapped, prattling on as was his nature. But no one was listening, they were too intent on seeing what was going on outside – blue sky, beautiful flying machines, bright sparkling colours like they could only imagine, as if they were looking into a kaleidoscope. They wondered what else they had been missing out on all these years and wonder led to both wander and wonderlust.

  ‘I think you’re talking to yourself. Best let them enjoy the sights and sounds outside the mechanism then we can get them back inside. You take three of the apprentices and I’ll be in soon,’ one of the Elders said in a matter-of-fact manner as a dragonfly landed nearby blinking its eyes as if to say, ‘I hope you folks are alright, just the river emergency services in action, there will be no charge. But please do be more careful in future. A river is a most magical place, of that there is no doubt. It can draw you in like a magnet, however it has more than enough hidden dangers to catch the unprepared off guard so be warned!’

  By this time the thief had awoken. ‘Where is my watch? I don’t believe this, a thief has stolen it. You can’t trust anyone these days, not even in the country!’ the thief exclaimed riffling through his own pockets. He jumped up like a jack-in-the-box and strode along the riverbank in an agitated manner, trailing back and forth, back and forth, turning over stones, pulling back grass, digging up mud, kicking stones into the river. But try as he might he could not find the watch anywhere. Tired and heavy-hearted he trudged back along the riverbank, his head hung low. Some small time later a glinting light caught his weary eyes. He could not believe his luck, he had stumbled across the watch. It was a miracle. The watch was lucky, a lucky omen. He looked around to make sure nobody was around then picked up the watch and put it back into his pocket where he felt it belonged. ‘There there, my beauty, this time you’ll be safe, this time I won’t let any thieving mongrel handle you but me. In fact I will build a golden cabinet where I will imprison you, I mean house you, my little beauty, my little treasure.’

  It seemed the thief had conveniently forgotten he had stolen the watch in the first place or maybe he thought it was destiny. It had been written that the watch would end up back in his possession. It was simply a warning from the gods to appreciate his good fortune and take care of that fortune more carefully in the future.

  By now most of the Clock People had gone back inside to help dry out the mechanism, their clothes and the food supplies, but one or two were still under the glass dome unaware of their new surroundings. The Elders knew things would never be the same again, the genie was out of the bottle. No amount of storytelling would explain this away. Now the Clock People had seen the outside world it would be hard to keep their minds upon the mundane task of keeping the watch running on time. However, the Elders would try, telling the good folk of the clock that although the outside world looked a most magical and beguiling place full of treasures and wonders aplenty, it was also a most dangerous place and far safer to be housed within the walls of the mechanism.

  Suddenly a giant face appeared in the glass dome as once again everything went as black as a river in spitting distance from where a coal mine stood.

  ‘It must be night time, it’s amazing how quickly the sun is replaced by the moon,’ mused the Old Woman of the Clock as she and a hundred other souls reluctantly went back inside into the hive, still buzzing with the amazing never-to-be-forgotten events of the day, a day that would go down in the annals of the History of the Clock People, or at least the almanacs.

  16

  Jack the Flash!

  ‘A giant, a giant picked us up and now I, I think we’re in his pocket,’ a child cried running into the office of the Elders, her face a picture of delight and wonder. Of course what she should have cried was ‘Thief, thief, stop thief!’

  ‘A giant you say, well, child, that is precisely why going outside has always been prohibited to all but the select few and what if these giants see us? Our whole world could be turned upside down, literally!’ the Clock Elder replied gruffly, determined to mark the child’s card while continuing to mark time as was the custom for the Clock Elders.

  It was the Elders’ mantra that whoever owned the watch was dutybound to keep it running on time. It was not their business to enquire on the history or the character of the owner or ask for their provenance. The truth was, if they had known the new owner was a common thief who had stolen the watch from a gentleman of breeding and culture, as they saw themselves to be, they might well have felt differently.

  Now back at the shack the Elders knew they would have to tread carefully when they left the clock to forage for food, for if the giant saw them it may well be the fairytale Jack and the Beanstalk all over again. However, this time it would not have a fairytale ending where the bigger they come the harder they fall, but a grim one where the Clock People would fall from grace and no amount of saying grace in the presence of the Clock God would save their bacon.

  Before the thief had found the watch he was a petty small-time criminal, a pickpocket on the London streets, but now with his lucky charm in his pocket he felt he was about to hit the big time. The thief was known by several nicknames: Fleet Foot Jack (he’s back!), Jack the Flash (in and out like a flash, he’s only in it for the cash!), Jack the Lad (the man’s a complete cad and a Jack the Lad!) and Jack Door (in and out of the houses of the rich like a revolving door!). Some even called the thief The Magpie, a nickname he had disliked ever since a magpie had tried to get away scot free with his most prized possession, the gold moonstone antique fob watch. Jack had heard of the gold watch that was kept in the Greenwich Royal Merchant Museum in London, made by the clockmaker John Cole for Francis Drake on the bequest of Elizabeth I. It had been made for Drake for being the first English captain to circumnavigate the globe from 1577 to 1580. The watch wasn’t worth a small fortune, only because it was worth a large one. Never mind a princely sum, this watch was worth a king’s ransom. In truth the museum was not that well guarded but to fence or keep such a historical watch was asking for trouble.

  However, by this time the thief was beginning to feel invincible as he had already broken into several houses on the rich side of town and had got away with quite a haul. This haul included diamond rings, emerald brooches, an expensive bejewelled carriage clock and a priceless fob watch. Most of these treasures the thief fenced on the black market, however the clock and watches he kept to add to his ever-growing collection of timepieces he imagined would be as timeless as time itself.

  The thief had been to the museum in Greenwich several times to ‘case the joint’ as they say in criminal circles. He knew his best chance of stealing the watch was at night. He also knew if he picked a time when something big was taking place like, say, for instance, Guy Fawkes Night, it would increase his chances thricefold. Guy Fawkes Night was the perfect cover. What with all the fireworks that would be going off in London Town he knew the loud noises would make stealing the watch a far easier proposition. As luck would have it, there was a big fireworks display and bonfire party in Greenwich Park coming up in a few weeks’ time. So what better time to steal one of the greatest timepieces in history, which by this time horologists were calling a national treasure, than the Night of the Burning Clocks as some people were calling Guy Fawkes Night.

  The night of the greatest heist of all time had arrived. Unfortunately for the thief there was a full moon out. He would have much preferred a night without a great big ball of shimmering gold shining down upon London like a spotlight. However, all was not lost as the night was for the most part cloudy, so he stole into the museum exactly like a thief in the night. Cole’s Compendium watch was sitting in
a glass cabinet so the public could see it in all its magnificent glory. There were several night watchmen patrolling the museum but they were nowhere near as keen of eye as the Clock Watchers who lived in the watch that had come into his possession by nefarious means.

  The normal procedure after the museum had closed was to lock the priceless timepiece away in a safe, so the thief knew he had a limited time in which to steal it. You could say he was against the clock, and what’s more it was a big clock. He was up against Big Ben!

  Although the fireworks were a welcome distraction, the thief needed a further distraction if he was going to be able to steal the watch. This distraction would come in the form of gunpowder and a small bomb he had planted at the rear of the museum, one he jokingly referred to as a time bomb. No doubt in their reporting of the robbery the chronicles of the day would call Cole’s Compendium just that: a time bomb! It was hardly the Gunpowder Plot and the thief certainly wasn’t Guy Fawkes and had no intention of ending up in the Tower of London for blowing the Houses of Parliament sky high!

  Jack the Flash lit the fuse of the time bomb with a match and hid behind a tree and then waited for time to do its thing – pass. The front door of the museum had as yet not been locked so when he heard the bang he would slip in through the front door, hoping the guards had gone to see what the noise was at the back of the museum. They would probably think it was fireworks but would check all the same. That would give him the time to steal Cole’s Compendium before they returned. He would have employed an accomplice, but being a thief himself he knew there was no honour amongst thieves. The fewer people who knew about this robbery the better, although a part of him wanted to be known as the man who stole Cole’s Compendium. Perhaps later on his deathbed Jack the Flash would confess to this crime, a confession that no doubt would make the papers, and later still would be published in his autobiography after his death. At least by doing this he would achieve some form of immortality even if it was for being infamous rather than famous for an act of selflessness.