Hello everyone!

So, you may all be wondering, "Lia...what the hell? You haven't even updated your "Bloodlust" fic, why are you posting another Goosebumps fic?"

Well, my lovely vamps, this fic was a request from "retro mania".

Disclaimer: I do not own Goosebumps/The Cuckoo Clock of Doom. Also, I used the book as a guideline (which explains the short chapters). This fic is going to be similar to the book with a few things from the episode added in there. However, there are going to be some other little twists that retro mania and I added on our own. The idea for this fic belongs to the fanfiction user, retro mania, I simply wrote it out (but I did add a couple of little things myself).

I hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Michelle, you've got something in your hair."

My 11 year old brother, Tommy, grinned up at me as he sat on the porch steps. I knew what that grin meant: trouble.

But I know better. He just wants me to freak out about my hair. He's done this trick before: he says I have something in my hair, he volunteers to take it out, only to grab onto my hair and yank as hard as he can.

"Yeah, right. I'm not falling for it again," I said, going up the step and into the house.

I was just getting home from school, and I was hoping that Mother was already making dinner. I was starving and I had a rough day. Tommy usually gets home before me, since I stay after school for drama practice.

The walk home is usually the only peace I ever get, since Tommy isn't around to ruin it.

When it comes to pranks or tricks, he just doesn't know when to quit.

Like right now.

"I'm serious. You've got something in your hair," Tommy insisted as he followed me into the house. "It's a gross, nasty bug!"

"Knock it off Tommy, I'm not in the mood," I said. But just to be sure, I glanced at the large mirror in the hallway. You could never be too careful when Tommy is around.

There was nothing there, at first. However, there was a slight movement around the top of my head. I reached up and pulled out a spider. Shrieking, I threw it out of my hand and gagged.

I heard Tommy let out a cackle. He knew I wouldn't believe him.

Tricked by Tommy the Terrible again.

"You put that there, didn't you?" I snapped.

Tommy kept giggling, his dark eyes glinting. "No I didn't. Maybe a bird dropped on your head after mistaking your hair for its nest!"

I narrowed my eyes and dove at him. He ducked and ran, making me miss. I didn't give up though, and I chased him into the kitchen.

"I'm gonna make you eat that spider!" I yelled, and jumped at him. Tommy dodged me again, and ran behind our mother. I landed against the kitchen table, the edge digging painfully into my hip.

"Mom, Michelle wants to hit me!" Tommy whined, using his special little boy voice.

I scowled, knowing that my mother would fall for his fake innocent tone. Even if I did catch him, I knew that he wasn't really scared of me. It was all an act.

"Michelle Webster! Stop threatening your brother!" Mother scolded. "And what did you say about a spider? Are you trying to scare your brother with one? You know better than to be bringing bugs into the house!"

"Tommy put it on my head!" I complained.

Mother shook her head. "Michelle, you're taller than Tommy. How would he reach the top of your head to do that?"

"But Mother-"

"Go do your homework. And stop bullying your little brother!" Mother said.

Tommy grinned his nasty grin from behind her. I glared in return before I turned and stormed up to my room. I ran my hand through my hair one last time before I went into my room.

This is how it's always been since Tommy was born. I always get into trouble for things that he does and I always get into awful situations when he's around. There's nothing about Tommy that doesn't bug me. And it especially irritates me when people compare us.

They say we look alike, but I doubt it. He's got a pale complexion than I do, while my skin is darker. He's got dark, curly hair, while my own dark hair is straight. He's really skinny, as if he never eats, while I'm on the athletic side. The only same thing we really have is our eyes: dark brown with thick dark lashes. But even then, I don't think they're the same. That's because there is a difference between our eyes, which is that he has this evil little glint to them. And he's got this habit of biting his lips, which makes his lips turn red all the time and he looks like he's wearing bright red lip gloss all the time. My parents took him to a doctor who said he was fine and that it was just a bad habit he'd grow out of. My parents praised him to kingdom come.

I said it was a sign of mental instability, and I got grounded for a whole weekend.

No one ever believes me about Tommy. The adults always say the same thing: he's smaller than you, he can't really do much harm to you.

Sure, Tommy is a little squirt of a kid. But he's stronger than he looks.

But because I'm 15, and he's 11, everyone thinks that I'm over exaggerating. Especially my mother. My father doesn't believe me either, but he's a lot more subtle about Tommy being the favorite Webster child. My mother however might as well tattoo it across her forehead.

There was a time where I used to call them both "Mom and Dad", but after a certain event took place, I switched to "Mother and Father". I figured that if they didn't treat me like a kid, their kid, then I might as well be formal.

They didn't even notice.

They were too focused on Tommy.

As I thought about the unfairness of my life, I heard a loud noise come from the living room. Curious, I walked out of my room and peered downstairs.

My father and another guy were struggling with a long and narrow object, which was wrapped in a padded and gray cloth. The source of the noise had been a picture frame that got knocked over in their struggle to carry the heavy object.

The man helping my father grunted, "This would have been easier if we had another set of hands to help."

"I know, but you were the only one who volunteered when I asked for help," my father replied. "Be careful, this thing is very old and fragile."

I quickly when downstairs and followed them as they carried the mysterious object down the hall and into my father's study. I stood in the doorway as they kept conversing.

"Why would you even want to buy this thing? It's old and dusty, and it's just not worth the struggle," my father's friend said as they set it down and upright.

"It's an antique and lots of people collect them," Father replied, unamused. "And I got it with a great discount. The man selling it wanted to get rid of it."

"I wouldn't blame him, this thing is freaky," my father's friend pointed out.

Father gave him a glare. "I think it's charming in it's own way Dan"

Dan chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, I expect you to come through with your part of the deal. You're buying me a whole pizza for lunch tomorrow."

"Alright. Say hi to Mari and the kids for me," Father said, as Dan made his way through the front door.

Once Dan left, I entered the study. "What's this?"

Father grinned with pride. "Take a look."

He reached up and untucked the corner of the blanket. He gave it a gentle tug and dramatically dropped it, revealing a large grandfather clock.

It was fancy looking, and was a dark brown, decorated with gold, and the face was bronze with black hands and black Roman numerals. There was a big door in the middle of the clock and there was two little doors which was nearly hidden. It was very detailed, beautiful, and like my father said, very old. Dan was right too, it gave off an ominous vibe that just gave me the creeps.

As Father began gushing about the clock, Mother and Tommy came in.

"Oh, you got the clock!" Mother exclaimed. "How did you afford it?"

"It turns out that it wasn't as expensive as we thought!" Father said, nearly jumping up and down. "And even better, the owner of the clock is actually Uncle Herman. He's been trying to get rid of it for years, and for a while, no one wanted to by it because of how pricey it was. Uncle Herman was so desperate, that he kept lowering the price until finally, it was at $375! I ran into him this morning at the store, and he saw me admiring it."

"So you payed $375 for an old clock that no one wanted, to the point where it nearly became garbage?" Tommy asked.

My father laughed. "Actually, no! When the store owner wanted saw me admiring the clock, he told Uncle Herman, who told me that I could just have it!"

"Really? Why would he be trying to get rid of it so badly?" Mother asked.

"The store owner says it has a small flaw. If you look closely, you can see that there's a dial that has the years listed onto it, but there's a year missing." Father said.

"That's it? That's not a big deal, is it?" I asked.

"Not to me it's not. The store owner also says there's a little story that goes with it, " Father said. "Rumor has it, the son of one of the previous owners went crazy and kept telling everyone that it was an evil time machine that somehow took his sister."

"That's weird," I said.

"Well, the kid was around your age Michelle, and his dad had told him about some legend behind the clock about how it was enchanted and that it could be used as a time machine. The kid turned that story into a delusion, and not matter how many times the previous owner and his wife kept trying to tell their son that he never really had a sister, the kid just kept talking about how he had to go back in time to save her. It didn't last very long, maybe about a few months, he must have gotten tired of being laughed at, so he just stopped talking about it. Or maybe he just grew up. Anyway, that owner felt that the clock was somehow adding to his son's delusion, so he put it up into display at the antique store where apparently Uncle Herman bought it but then changed his mind about it. "

"Why did he display it in the antique store? Why didn't he just pawn it?" I asked. "If he had done that, he probably would have gotten a lot of money out of it."

Father shrugged. "I asked him the same thing and he said that he wanted to know who bought it. He's got that emotional attachment, which is why he gave it to me. He wanted it to stay in the family. His wife wasn't a huge fan of the clock."

"Well, it looks nice," Mother said. "You don't have to worry about me disliking it."

"Hey Dad, what's that?" Tommy asked. We all leaned closer to the clock and saw that there was a dial of numbers, like a smaller version of a clock, except instead of telling the time it had the years from 1800 to 2017. Underneath, there was a small gold button.

"I found the missing year," I said. "1996 is gone."

"Good eye Michelle," Father grinned. "For some reason, no one ever fixed that. I guess it just adds to the charm."

I looked down at Tommy and grinned smugly. He scowled and elbowed me in the gut, making me slip forward. I nearly landed straight onto the clock, but I felt my father quickly grab the back of my shirt. He tugged me back and I landed on my rear end instead.

"Careful Michelle! You could have really damaged the clock!" Father said. He quickly inspected the clock to make sure I hadn't.

He cared more about the clock getting hurt instead of his daughter. This time, Tommy smiled smugly at me and I glared at him.

I was about to open my mouth to tell him off, but I was interrupted by a long gong. The little doors above the face of the clock slide open, and a mean looking bird, with ruffled brown feathers and beady red eyes flew out.

I screamed as it flew straight at my face.