Author: Michael J McCluskey

Elliot Crane was no ordinary clockmaker. Hidden behind his workshop in an alley off Regent Street was a machine unlike any other — a brass and glass sphere that hummed like a heartbeat. To the untrained eye, it looked like an unfinished clock. But Elliot knew better. It was his Time Engine.

He had been working on it for forty years, following blueprints left by his late mentor, Professor Halden, who vanished mysteriously one stormy night in 1885. The notes said, “Time is not a line, but a circle — find the right gear, and you can step anywhere upon it.”

One night, as the rain pattered against the windows, Elliot decided it was time. He wound the final gear and stepped inside. The sphere closed around him, gears spinning faster and faster until the room dissolved into light.

When the humming stopped, he stepped out onto the same street — but everything was different. The air smelled cleaner. The buildings towered like glass mountains. And the people carried glowing rectangles in their hands. He had landed in the year 2125.

Elliot wandered, stunned, through the neon-lit city. He marveled at the flying vehicles, the talking machines, and the absence of clocks. Time, it seemed, was now invisible — measured only by devices no one could see. He felt both awe and sadness. His life’s work, the art of clockmaking, had been swallowed by progress.

As he passed a museum, a display caught his eye: “The Lost Clockmaker: The Mysterious Disappearance of Professor Halden, 1885.” There, behind glass, was a photograph of Halden — and beside him stood a young apprentice. Elliot.

Heart pounding, Elliot read the plaque. It claimed Halden had vanished along with his apprentice, leaving behind sketches of a “temporal mechanism.” But that couldn’t be. Elliot was here, now. He looked closer and noticed something else — the date of their disappearance: October 11, 1885 — the same night Halden vanished, and the same night Elliot had left.

Realization struck him. The machine had not merely moved him forward; it had completed the circle. Halden had succeeded in traveling through time — and Elliot had followed, only a century too late.

As the lights of the city reflected off the glass case, Elliot smiled faintly. He understood now. Time wasn’t meant to be conquered — only observed. He returned to his machine, set the dials to 1885, and whispered, “Let’s finish what we started, Professor.”

The sphere closed once more, gears turning in perfect rhythm — the heartbeat of time itself — and Elliot Crane vanished into the circle, leaving behind only the faint ticking of an invisible clock.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when Max realized he was lost. The golden retriever had been chasing a squirrel through the woods behind his family’s house, his paws flying over fallen leaves, his heart pounding with excitement. But when the squirrel darted up a tree and disappeared, Max turned around—and the house was nowhere in sight.

He barked once, hoping his boy, Liam, would hear him. Only silence answered, except for the rustling of the wind through the trees. Max’s ears drooped. The familiar scent of home was gone, replaced by the sharp smell of pine and damp earth.

Night fell quickly, and Max curled up under a bush, shivering. He dreamed of Liam’s laughter and the warm spot by the fireplace where he liked to nap. When dawn broke, Max stood, shook off the dew, and sniffed the air. He could smell faint traces of something familiar—Liam’s shoes, maybe? His blanket? His tail wagged, just a little.

Max followed the scent through the forest, across a shallow creek, and over a grassy hill. He passed strangers who tried to call him, but Max kept going. He had one mission: get home. His paws were sore, and his belly rumbled with hunger, but every step brought the smell of home a little stronger.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Max crested a hill and saw it—the little white house with the red door. Liam was sitting on the porch steps, his face buried in his hands.

Max barked with every ounce of energy left in him and bolted down the hill. Liam looked up, his eyes wide, then broke into a run.

“Max!” he shouted.

When they met in the yard, Liam wrapped his arms around Max’s neck, burying his face in his fur. Max’s tail thumped so hard it kicked up dust.

“You found your way home,” Liam whispered, and Max licked the tears from his boy’s cheeks.

That night, Max lay in his spot by the fire, full, warm, and safe. The world outside could be big and scary, but Max knew one thing for sure—he could always find his way back to the ones who loved him most.