Clockwork

Chapter 1: Ticking Wonderland

I gazed absently out at the tall, brick and glass faced buildings of Tin City, listening to the random spits and sputters of the steam powered automated horses that drove the carriage forward. This was only the latest of a handful of times I had ever been to the city. Under better circumstances, I would've been over the moon with excitement. I had always had a great interest in technology and with the latest blossoming of knowledge that had swept over the world, technology was swiftly advancing. However, most of these advancements were happening here, in the cities, not in little towns like Riverside, where I had spent my entire seventeen years. I had always dreamed of coming to live in Tin City, to immerse myself in contraptions, if nothing else. Being sent away to live with a widowed aunt by my heartbroken father after my mother's sudden abandonment was not what I had in mind. I missed my little brothers, Paul and Jonathan so much. I wish I could have stayed with them, but even they were being sent away to a boarding school three hours away in Silver City. It seemed that without my mother around, my father had little patience for his children.

I let out a shuttering sigh and fidgeted with my feathered cap as we came to a stop outside of my aunt's home. "Here we go." I muttered. I hesitantly opened the door.

"It's so good to see you, my dear", greeted my aunt Margaret at my arrival. She scooped me up in her arms as soon I stepped out of the carriage and gave me a tight, comforting hug. Aunt Margaret was a pleasant woman. She was nearing fifty now, yet her face still held a slight essence of youth, hinting at how beautiful she must have been when she was in her prime. Her once golden hair had turned snowy white. Smile lines creased her round face and her grey eyes sparkled at me in the evening lamp light of the city. She blotted at her eyes with an embroidered hanky. "My, you've grown. It seems like only yesterday your mother was carrying you around on her hip. You're a young woman now." Her slight smile was somewhat bitter. "I've missed a great deal."

I smiled warmly at her and gave her another quick hug. "Don't worry. We have all the time in the world to catch up, now that I'm here to stay."

"You're right." Margaret beamed at me, tears pooling in her eyes. She quickly blotted them away, as she took my hand and led me up the steps of her large brick town house. "At least we'll have some time together until I get you married off." She added, only half-jokingly.

Upon entering my aunt's house, I was immediately greeted by a serenade of ticking and chiming. Just the sitting room alone was lined with clocks on every available piece of wall and flat surface. I could see that more awaited me in the halls and other rooms of the house. A coo-coo clock chimed and the little bird popped out, making its signature noise, right above my head. I jumped in fright with a strange squeal.

Margaret chuckled at me. "Sorry. I should have warned you. Your uncle Peter, God rest his soul, was a tinkerer of sorts. He was fascinated by clocks, for some reason or another. He collected them throughout his life, even fixed some that hadn't worked in decades. Unfortunately, that means the house is filled with them and each is set to go off at a different time. It's something I'm afraid you'll have to get used to." The curve of her lips fell slightly. "It's been a year since he died…but I still don't have the heart to turn them all off." She chuckled again, but there wasn't any real happiness or humor behind it. "Besides, I think the silence would drive me crazy after all these years. I'd miss the noisy things."

"I like them." I said with a grin as I looked around at them all, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the woodwork and the brilliant gold of the gears that were exposed in a few of them. "I feel like I'm in Wonderland." I breathed in awe. I walked slowly around the room, touching the glass faces of the clocks, noting how each of their hands was in a different position and how each clock looked and sounded different from the one next to it.

"We'll see if you still feel that way when you're trying to sleep. I still remember the first few weeks after Peter and I was married. I've never been so exhausted in my whole life. I hated the contraptions back then, wanted to toss them all out of the window or use them as kindle for the fireplace, but of course Peter wouldn't have it. He said that I'd grow to love them as much as he did. God strike me dead, if he wasn't right." She giggled in her husky voice. She waved me towards the dining room. "Come, I have dinner waiting for you. It's probably stone cold by now."

The food was indeed cold, but I made no mention of it. I ate quietly, nibbling on the roasted chicken and potatoes. I looked around, still in wonder of the place. There were literally clocks everywhere, even in the middle of the dining table between the two candlesticks. The sound of them all, ticking insistently, was near defining.

"Have you heard any word from Trinity?"

" Ma'am?" I murmured, blinking out of a stupor. My attention reverted away from the clocks and back to my aunt.

She repeated her question again patiently. "Have you heard any word from your mother?"

I swallowed hard and my eyes fell to my half empty cup of tea. "We…receive post cards from time to time. The last one was from the Golden City. It seems that Mother and her…new friend are staying at the Empress Hotel."

"That girl," Margaret huffed. "I can't believe she ran off with that bloke and just left the three of you there, without even saying goodbye. Your father hasn't done much better. He should be taking care of you and the boys as a father should, not sending you off so that others can see to your care. Not that it is any bother to me. I'm very happy for the company, Caroline." She reached across the table and pat my hand reassuringly.

"Mother", I began with a soft breath, "has always been…a free spirit. I suppose she grew board of us all. My father…well I don't really blame him for sending us away…he's always left our care to our Mother. I don't think he knew what to do with us once she went away. I know he loves us, he just has a difficult time showing it, as many men do."

"Child," she sighed, pity shining in her eyes. "What Trinity did was selfish and cruel. It had nothing to do with you or your brothers or even your father. She failed you, as your mother. She'll have to live with that guilt, not you. As for your father…" She smiled sweetly at me, squeezing my hand with her own. "I suppose even a heart of stone can break. He'll come around dear, you'll see. Maybe he just needs time to…come to terms with things."

"I hope so." I replied, picking up my cup and taking a sip of the tea. I swallowed it quickly to rid my mouth of the taste, having found it much too bitter all of a sudden.

After dinner, Margaret led through the house, showing off one room, before tottering through another doorframe. She'd been modest when she said that there were clocks everywhere. They almost made the entirety of every wall. Every bare surface, was covered by one is some shape or another. A grandfather clock sat in every corner. Coo-coo clocks squeaked madly overhead, seemingly trying to drown each other out. Clocks that played calming and beautiful music were overtaken by the irritating chime and tick of the sea of less ornate clocks that surrounded them. I knew Margaret was talking, but I couldn't hear her voice very well, as I drowned in the ocean of noise. I simply nodded and smiled, hoping that she hadn't asked me a direct question.

We entered yet another hallway. The house was literally a labyrinth of dead end halls and rooms that seemed to have no other purpose than to house more clocks. This hall was different from the rest of the house. This was the first place I had yet to see where there were no clocks to be seen or even heard. The walls were bare, save for a painting of my uncle Peter and Margaret in their wedding clothes. It hung by a narrow door, which was bolted shut by no less than three brass locks.

"The bedrooms are just at the end of this hall. I forced Peter to leave this part of the house clock free. Otherwise, I would never get my beauty sleep." She laughed and pointed towards the two open doors, one right next to the other. "Your room is on the left. Mine is next door on the right. If you every need anything just bang on the wall a few times and I'll come running."

I stopped at the odd, bolted door, staring at it like it was a two headed dragon. Curiosity bubbled up from within my chest, making me swallow hard as if there were a large toad in my throat. "Where does this door lead to?" I asked.

"That's just Peter's old workshop; nothing down there but broken clocks that never got fixed and projects that were never finished. It's filled with junk. It's dangerous so I locked it. I don't want you going down there so you can trip over a busted coo-cool clock. Pay it no mind."

She tottered on down the hall and I hesitantly followed, trying absurdly hard to ignore the bolted door and the promise of fun projects it held behind it.

"Will the room do?" She asked.

I turned around slowly, taking in the humble room. It was decorated with pink and white striped wall paper. A blush pink blanket was spread over the large bed. The brass bed was painted white, as was the wood of the bed and wardrobe. Though I was a girl, this room was far too feminine for my liking. Pink was never a favored color. Still I grinned like a Cheshire cat and gushed over it, making Margaret smile happily.

"I'm so glad you like it, Caroline." She gave me a kiss on the cheek as she bid goodnight.

I slept restlessly that night, in my new pink bedroom. It was not the constant chiming, ticking, squawking, and bonging sounds of the clocks that kept sleep from finding me as Margaret had warned. It was the accursed locked door and the possibilities that it hid away that had me tossing and turning.