The Wistful Skyline
The brass gears of the Grand Meridian turned counter-clockwise at night, a localized uncanny rule that time reverses only when the town’s collective guilt is unacknowledged, and I, Elias Thorne, a forty-five-year-old clockmaker in the fog-bound town of Oakhaven, watched the hands retreat with a dread that had no name. I had spent the last decade of my life constructing this machine for the town...
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