Timeless

The woman would sing in tongues never heard by another’s ears. That was what first led the child to believe that the woman behind the wall was an alien, despite the fact that she looked very human. Yes, she did very much look human, but the way in which she carried herself was…inhuman.

Maybe she’s the queen of a faraway galaxy, the young girl would think. Or a vigilante sent from another planet to save humanity! What slipped her mind was what humanity needed saving from, but a young child could only think so far ahead. What never changed, however, was the maiden’s desire to learn from her. She asked Astra all about herself, and the young girl would give exuberant replies, that were quick to switch on another subject entirely, although not really meaning to.
Astra had been so carefree about it back then. She hadn’t thought to truly question the woman she saw in her dreams. But as the dreams carried on into Astra’s coming adulthood, it became something bigger.

The clocksmith wet the rag she used to clean the gear, swiping it against the delicate metal with a swish of her wrist and not stopping her furious scrubbing until the metal gained an unearthly glow, easily tiring herself. Astra felt the weariness finally overcome her as she dropped all she held, the rag now sat on the table and her arms now rested limply at her sides, muscles sore. She stood for a while, taking deep breathes as she looked at the newly cleansed clockwork piece. And when she finally felt she could lift her arms again, she picked up the large gear and turned, approaching the opposite wall and hoisting it onto its lever and jamming it in place. The gear train wall creaked in its old age, but remained strong in its conquest. She gazed at the wall of frozen mechanics, and then grasped the cleansed gear once again, giving it a starting turn.

The machinery burst to life, creaking and groaning as it began to whir and spin, functioning just as it used to. Each turning gear activated all the others. Despite the machinery functioning, Astra still felt a sort of weariness in her chest as she watched the clockwork spin. She walked, feet dragged, toward the staircase and with her hand resting on the rather weak iron of the hand hold; she trudged down the incredibly narrow staircase until she reached the base of the clocktower, where her mother and herself lived.

"Astra, you’re down early..." droned her mother as she entered the rustic kitchen. She turned to grace her with a gentle smile, before setting down the copper plates in the sink and reaching for the pot on the stove.

"I'm not hungry," Astra interjected, voice gruff from the tower's smoky aura. Her mother, who spent little to no time up there, had a silky voice, more so than most others who usually had rougher voices due to the air conditions.

"You always say that," Astra's mother retorted, scolding, turning to give her daughter a hard yet pleading stare.

Astra only shrugged. "Not always."

"You work too much."

"I know."

Her mother wiped a dot of sweat from her brow with a soft rag. "If you don't eat, you'll end up like your father—"

"He died of a heart attack, not starvation, mother," Astra informed. Her mother's brows furrowed in frustration as she placed the rag down.

"I know that, but if you continue to work so much, you will end up having one, too," she replied. She approached Astra, who had stopped by the counter to watch her mother carefully as she placed a hand on each shoulder. Her mother regarded her with those hollowed cheeks and sun-kissed, dappled skin. "Why do you insist on fixing that good for nothing piece of machinery?"

Astra shrugged her hands away, returning to her mother a sharp stare. "That 'good for nothing' piece of machinery is what dad dedicated his life to."

Mrs. Mortem's mouth formed into a grim line. "That doesn't mean you have to, Astra. You don't need to do anything besides make yourself happy. And...it's like you've become addicted to going up there." In another attempt to reach out to her, Mrs. Mortem licked her thumb and rubbed it harshly against her cheek to rid her daughter's pale skin of the black grease smudges that the tower had gifted upon her. "What is it, Astra? The hum of ancient machinery? The same mechanics your father touched? What makes the tower so intriguing to you?"

There was desperation in her voice. She didn't understand Astra's reasoning. No one really did, actually. But it wasn't their business, anyway. She drew in a harsh breath, and stepped away from her mother. In one breath, she lied directly to her face, eyes locked on her mother's dark orbs, before retreating back up the staircase.

"Nothing in particular."

The landscape of her dreams was dark, as it usually was, encompassed in stars that faded into and out of the fabric of the surrounding skies. When she walked, there was never any floor, only more endless sky beneath her feet. Although beautiful, it was someone frightening, this endless abyss of space. But Astra held no fear for it anymore. Only emptiness, for she had been here multiple times before.

She turned to the cries, the familiar voice that beckoned to her, begging for her help. She turned her body in the vast nothingness to the equally endless wall of glass about twenty feet away from her. The bottom half was lost to the mist. She looked up at it, craning her neck. From her position, she could see one of the clock hands on the glass, frozen in place on the clock face. She approached the wall at a jogging pace, looking for the girl on the other side of the clock face.

She was there, as she usually was. The girl. Soft pink lips and night black hair that curled into her neck in a fragile manner. Skin pale as moon rock and almond shaped eyes with the color to match. They were glossy with tears as she sat, white robed, against the clock face. Everything about her was small and dainty, she reminded Astra of a princess, a very stunning princess. The princess’s appearance hadn’t changed since the first day she had met her, and that had been when she had been only a toddler.

Her voice was slightly muffled by the glass, but Astra could make out every word. “We don’t have much time,” she warned, wiping at her tears. She sniffled gently. “Please, you have to fix it or the void will swallow me for good. Please, Astra—”

“I know,” Astra replied. “I will,” she continued to assure. “I just…I don’t know why it doesn’t work, the gears are in perfect condition. Just…whenever I turn them on, they run just as they should but the clock hands never move. I don’t understand—”

“You can, Astra. I know you can. Fix the clocktower and free me, and…I’ll restore this town, this world to what it once was. I promise you.” The girl touched the glass with her fingers, and she leaned forward achingly slowly. Astra was unsure as to what she had intended to do then, but eventually it all faded from view.

She slowly awoke from the dream, and she sighed, sitting up from her desk where she had fallen asleep, working. She rubbed her sore cheek, and dragged herself back to work. She had probably only been asleep for a quarter of the amount that was needed, but she always did get the bare minimum. She needed to fix the clocktower.

She had to free the maiden in the clock.