Disclaimer: I do not own Goosebumps/The Cuckoo Clock of Doom or any of RL Stine's original characters. I do not own the original idea for this fic, I am writing this fic on a request for retro mania. I only own a few of my own original ideas that are in here. I also used the original book as a guide, and put in a few episode references.
Sorry for the short chapter!
I Hope you enjoy! (and reviews are always welcome!)
Chapter 8
I staggered back to bed, my head spinning.
Two days until my birthday? Hadn't I just lived through my birthday twice? I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed my phone. The date said February 3rd. My birthday is February 5th. My birthday was two days away.
Could it be true?
Was time going backwards?
No way. I must be going nuts.
I shook my head hard and even slapped myself a few times.
Going back in time...ha! I laughed at the idea. It's impossible!
Then again, so was repeating my birthday thanks to a wish come true. And even then, all I did was wish to celebrate my birthday over again, once. I didn't wish to repeat my twelfth birthday for the rest of my life!
But if that's what's happening, why is it now two days before my birthday?
Why isn't it just the night before?
Maybe time really is going backwards.
Maybe this has nothing to do with my wish.
But then why is this happening to me?
I racked my brains. How is it possible that I'm going back in time magically?
Time.
Magic.
I twisted the cuckoo's head backwards… went to bed… and when I woke up, time had gone backwards.
Could that be it?
Did I do this?
Is Dad's clock really magic?
Maybe I shouldn't have turned that stupid bird backwards.
With my luck, of course this would happen. I try to get Tommy into trouble, and end up getting myself into a horrible mess.
Well, if that is what happened, it's easy enough to fix.
I'll just go downstairs and turn the cuckoo's head back around! Simple as that.
I tiptoed out of my room and down the stairs. My parents had probably fallen back to sleep already, but I didn't want to take any chances. I definitely didn't want Father to catch me fooling around with his precious clock.
My feet stepped lightly on the cold floor as I crept into the down the stairs and to Father's office. I switched on a lamp and glanced around the room.
My breath caught in my throat and I felt like I was being strangled.
The cuckoo clock was gone.
I felt nauseous.
Had the clock been stolen?
Without the clock, how could I fix everything?
How could I turn the bird's head around and make my life go forward again?
I raced upstairs, panicking. I didn't care who I woke up now.
"Mother! Father!" I yelled.
I burst into their room and shook Mother awake again.
"Michelle, what is it?" she snapped, sounding furious. "It's the middle of the night. We're trying to get some sleep!"
Let them be angry, I thought. This was way more important.
"The cuckoo clock! It's gone!"
Father rolled over. "What? Huh?"
"Michelle, you've had another nightmare," Mother assured me. Her voice had grown softer when she saw that I was hyperventilating.
"It's not a nightmare, Mother! It's true! Go downstairs and see for yourself! There's no cuckoo clock in the den!" I said, tearing up at this point.
"Michelle, listen to me. It was a dream." Mother's voice was still soft, but firm. "We don't own a cuckoo clock. We never did."
I staggered backwards.
"It's just a dream. A bad dream," she said.
"But Father bought it…." I began, but stopped.
I understood now.
The date was February 3rd.
Two days before my birthday.
And five days before Father bought the cuckoo clock.
We were traveling back in time. Father hadn't bought the clock yet.
I felt sick.
"Michael, are you alright?" Father asked. He climbed out of bed and pressed the back of his hand against my forehead.
"You feel a little warm," he said. His voice was soft as well, and I was sure that he was doing it because he thought that I might be sick. "Come on, let's get you to bed. I'll bet you have a fever and that's why you're having all these nightmares. I'll take care of it, Diane. Go back to sleep." He guided me back to bed.
"Father, I'm not sick!" I insisted. "I time traveled backwards with the clock, I swear!"
"Get some sleep Michelle," Father said. "You'll feel a lot better in the morning. Like I say, tomorrow is another day."
My parents thought I was sick.
But I knew the truth.
I had made time move backwards.
And my only hope was the clock, and now it was gone.
How would I fix things now?
