Timeless

The dreams had begun when Astra was just a toddler. Around the time her father died.

When the clockmaker awoke to darkness, the maiden would chant her name in a ceremonious voice, liquid silk that would envelop her young ears and lure her with the call of her own name. Astra Astra Astra… Here, darling! And little Astra would always come to the call. The darkness had scared her, the young child, and the maiden always did her best to comfort her through the glass of the clock. Singing was one of her many methods. “If only the clockwork could speak, I wouldn’t be so alone…”

The clock maiden’s comfort had never failed before. Astra’s tears would always slow, and eventually, the darkness with its glittering galaxies and forbidden stars, would cease to strike fear in her. The darkness was always worth seeing the clock maiden.

The dreams slowed as she got older, becoming more widely spread. Astra now saw the clock maiden between about five to six sleeps. Sometimes longer. The longer the wait, the more Astra feared she would lose contact altogether. The void would close and she’d be locked inside the clocktower forever.

The clock maiden had explained it to her many times before. She had fallen through a void, devoid of space and time that lied in the clock tower. But, theoretically, she wasn’t actually…in the clock tower. Astra had convinced herself that this was beyond her humanly knowledge long ago.

When Astra was old enough, the clock maiden explained her situation to Astra. The young clocksmith vowed to free her. She knew the clock maiden hadn’t actually taken her seriously, but Astra had truly meant it all. She would free the never aging, dreamingly beautiful and kind enchantress from the prison she was put.

The time for dreaming was over, however. She knew only because she felt no sleep coming to overwhelm her. The sun had been shining up above for thirty-seven hours up above the town’s head, causing searing heat to blare down on them for endless hours. She had to go into town before the sun decided to leave.

The mechanics had started smoking. They had never done that before, but as she usually did, Astra blamed the void. Everything was the void’s fault. All misfortune.

She rushed toward the preparation vendor, and in a quick, strong tone, she said to the short, stout lady behind the makeshift desk, “Type C3 packaged food. Also a few hardware tools and cleaners, and I need a pack of assorted metals mailed to the clocktower. Do not pre-prepare the metals into cogs. I need them all bare, and uncut. Yes, you can get me the food and the tools to me now.” She placed a few holed coins on the table that landed in a dull thump, and the lady scribbles all she’s said down, trying to keep up. She hasn’t worked here before. Astra doesn’t recognize her.

The lady has also been working out in the heat, Astra could tell from the wetness of her hairline, the glisten of her skin. She took the coins, dropping them into the pocket of her pantaloons and then rushed over to the warehouse to get her prepackaged food. Astra watched the bust city bustle around behind the preparation vendor. Because of the vastness of the city, and the largeness of the shopping quarters, where the roads were cluttered in thousands of vendors, they had these city run preparation booths where a list would be given and they would find your items and either mail them to you, or give them to you then and there.

Astra took notice of the many faces and bodies that drifted across her vision. The feminine peoples wore underbust and overbust corsets, and the skirt lengths varied from upper thigh to floor lengths. Their styles greatly varied between parts of the city, but for the most part, clothing was leather and velvet, but cotton was more common despite the hassle that producing it was. Soft, dullish colors like gold and brown, rustic red and olive green were the main colors of what could be seen floating about the crowds. Pocket watch chains and large amounts of jewelry had gotten popular, even using parts from broken up clogs to accessorize the top hats and patterns. Feathers and fur accessorized them all. The city was filled with people trying to make themselves look richer than they really were.

Astra took off her bandana to wipe her forehead, feeling a bit grateful that she’d cut her hair above the neck. Sure, the sun had easy access to it, and it was probably in the process of turning cherry red, but the beads of sweat from her hair rolled down the nape of her neck to her back, cooling her off as the dry wind blew gently over her. It was quite strange how the dusty smog in the air blotted the sun, but never enough to stop the heat.

The large lady came back, placing Astra’s food package on the table. The roof attached to the table clearly didn’t benefit her much, but the woman seemed to be managing for now. Astra took the food package, putting it on her large wooden wagon that she always pulled to town, and then waited for the lady to run toward the blacksmith to get her her new instruments. It was a good twenty minutes in the heat before she returned and placed the large box on the table, with Astra took immediately and roughly dropped it on the wagon. “Thanks,” she said to the woman, who smiled tiredly and waved. But Astra had set off by then, back to make the trek to the clocktower.

Astra lugged the wagon over the bare dust hills until she made it back through the city and to the center where her tower home stood. She grasped the polished knob and pushed it open, dragging her wagon inside. Its rusty wheels squealed as they rolled over the protruding doorstep, and that is what alerted Mrs. Mortem to her daughter’s presence.

“Thank you, darling,” Mrs. Mortem said with her gentle, mothering smile. It seemed a bit forced. She was most likely still fuming from earlier. Her mother fixed the loose knot of chestnut hair, pulled up to the back of her head in a mess of a bun with an elastic, before bending down to lift the package of dried foods to the dining table. Astra grabbed her tools and rushed toward the staircase, worried of the smoking that had begun earlier.

“Astra, wait. I have something for you.”

“It needs to wait,” Astra retorted after a quick pause on the third step of the staircase.

Mrs. Mortem angrily huffed. “I’m your mother. You have no choice.”

Astra dropped the box abruptly on the staircase, the tools inside clanking disgracefully. She turned and approached her mother with a stony, honey gold stare.

Astra’s mother opened her mouth, as if she were going to say something about the attitude she was given, but sighed tiredly and reached into a package on the splintered wood table. “Here you are.”

Astra was given a doll.

The thing was completely metallic, fashioned from old clock parts and bolts. The eyes were partly rusted spirals of thin copper, the mouth rectangular and the head squared. The shoulders were coils, much too long to look natural, and bolted upon the coils were the lengthy, flat arms that stretched down to the little being’s knees. The tummy and torso were rectangular, but in its center were bolted cogs. The bolt was too tightly nailed to be able to spin the cogs, which Astra thought would have looked cool if it had. The joints of the legs were squared, down to the ball ankles and rectangular feet attached. It was strange to say the least, but Astra rather liked strange. It was refreshing.

Astra gave a halfhearted grin. “I like it.”

Mrs. Mortem smiled. “I know you would.”

Astra frowned suddenly. “But you went out into town to get it.”

“Well, yes…” her mother admitted. “But I was feeling fine, Astra. I wasn’t breathing heavily or coughing at all, and—”

“You’re still sick, mother. The air out there isn’t going to aide your lungs.”

Mrs. Mortem hung her head as she was scolded. “I was just doing something nice for you.”

Astra dropped the doll onto the table and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist to pull her into a gentle hug. “Sorry. I know it’s dull in here. But still…”

“I will take care of myself, Astra. I’m not old and sickly, yet,” she said teasingly, pulling away to peck her daughter’s nose.

Astra smiled lightly. “But I want you to live long, mother—”

“Helena.” Astra blinked at the use of her middle name. “Sometimes, people must find an eternity in the short time they have.”

Astra, disheartened, lowered her gaze, but gave her mother a kiss upon her cheek, and she was finally let upstairs. She didn't forget to grab the clockwork doll before placing it in the box of new toolware and carrying it all up the stairs.

Astra was at the top of the tower at double the speed. She could smell the smoke. It permeated the air in large puffs of fog, and Astra lowered the sweat-dampened bandana to her face, covering her nose and mouth. She dropped the heavy box, pulling one out—thinking on it now, she didn't think she really knew what she was grabbing. She had to fix this...

She raced toward the massive cog engine in the center of the room. The mechanics pumped and groaned and spun, ancient and tireless in their work. The metal clockwork would clash in areas and create fiery sparks that sprung from their source, showering Astra frighteningly. The clocksmith worked vigorously, but with each passing second the clockwork spun it would go faster and faster, sparks flying and grazing her skin with startling her. Astra whirled around, only to see the cog train on the wall behind her was functioning the same. Her gaze was wide, startled, as she looked over to the clockhands on the glass to the other side of the room.

They were moving.

A spark of hope ignited in her chest. It was working, they were moving. Why? She didn’t know. But they were, and—oh, was the maiden free? Could she escape? Her eyes were fixed, unable to tear away from the miraculous sight before her. Yes, yes! They moved! After so many years of being still!

A ferocious spark erupted behind her, and Astra was reminded of the situation at hand. She kept pursuing the cogs, trying to work on them, stop the smoke filling the room. She got too close.

She wound around the cog steam engine, trying to find an entrance where she could reach, try to fix it. She didn't understand why it was doing this, it had never done this. She reached out, armed with her tool, and got too close. A wildly spinning cog sliced a jagged hole into her arm. Astra cried out. She didn't even have to jerk away. The force pushed her away, and she stumbled back toward the staircase, falling on her back and unable to stop her impact to the ground, slamming the back of her head on the floor. Everything became hazy.

When she awoke, she was once again in the starry landscape of her dreams. Astra whirled, still hazy, until she saw the familiar stretch of glass, the immense face of the clock. "Astra!" she heard, the desperate scream of the clock maiden. She was slamming on the glass with her palm and her fist. Astra raced the long distance across the landscape to the maiden behind the clock face.

At the same time, the smoky clocktower, Astra was awakening. The back of her head had bled a small puddle into the ground, no wider than an inch. Her forearm bled heavily, the cut in her skin jagged and unclean. She got to her feet, knees threatening to buckle. The cogs and the engine were working at quadruple the speed they were intended to do. At this rate, collapse was inevitable.

Astra watched the maiden's lips move. "The void. It's going to swallow me. I don't know what to do—"

"I'm going to get you out, please believe me," Astra said, looking upward to see if the arms of the clock had begun moving in this realm as well. They had—she could see them moving, just barely, since they were so huge. Her face dropped as she realized, over a long moment, the maiden was not being freed at all. There she was, still stuck behind the clock face.

"I think it's time to say goodbye," the maiden murmured through the glass, after a long, long moment.

Astra angrily kicked the side of the heavy box that held the tools. Goodbye? Hell, no. It landed on its side, the tools spilling out with the clock doll at the heap. Astra walked forward, grabbing the doll and examining it. She had to stop the machinery. There was no other choice.

The girl was hardly aware she was in two places at once, her dreamscape with the maiden, yet also reality. She only knew what she was experiencing and it was angering her. It was giving her a headache. It felt like time was against her. She needed to stop the clock, and free her but the only way to do that—

She felt all the oddities in the doll, looking toward the staircase and then at the steam engine. She couldn't let the tower collapse.

Astra lifted the doll, giving it a parting kiss to the tiny head, and then brought it down like you would a blade. She jammed it into the machine, her bloody arm jarring in protest, but she continued pushing and pushing until all the machinery ceased to move anymore.

Astra looked up at the tall tower of glass that separated her from the clock maiden. The maiden followed her gaze, and then looked back Astra and their gazes met. Astra shook her head. Was she hallucinating? No...there was a crack. The immense face of the clock was cracking.

The clocksmith glanced up again. Yes, those were cracks. Ten...no, now twenty. You could hear the glass splintering. It was all going to fall apart. She looked the clock maiden, and said firmly, "Run." Astra stood on her feet, still watching the maiden. She was still crouched against the glass, looking confused. "Run! Do it now!" Astra screamed, backing away. The maiden was perplexed, but frightened. She did as she was told.The maiden lifted her lengthy dress as she ran in the opposite direction of the clock face. She stumbled over the tendrils of her gown, but didn't stop running. The splintering sound filled both girls' ears as they ran in the opposite direction. And finally, the face shattered. Ginormous shards of glass flew out in giant daggers, creating a deafening sound as they clattered and clanged against the invisible ground. The force of it all caused both to collapse on the floor, hoping they wouldn't end up with a shard through their hearts.

Astra watched as the machinery sparked and moaned deafeningly. It was all going to cave. Everything began to fall apart.

Astra pulled herself up off the ground, trying to find the direction she came from. She wanted to call the maiden's name, but that information had never been given to her. All around her were shards of glass that had to be at least twenty feet long. The clock face had shattered. She saw something, a light, a glaringly bright light that shun from the direction the clock maiden had run. She moved toward it, the light mesmerizing in a strange way. She had to crawl over the massive little hand of the clock that crossed her path. She moved toward the light, and saw the maiden resonating there, smiling tiredly but also gratefully. Astra couldn't decide on the word to describe the sight. The clock maiden stood still, and upon seeing Astra, her grin became more prominent, and she immediately began to approach. She looked younger somehow, lustrous dark locks curling up against her pale neck with cheeks flushed pink and almond, slanted eyes glazed.

She was upon Astra, and the clocksmith was still speechless as the maiden came close. As she leaned forward, Astra saw that her almond gaze was bespeckled in gold fragments. She felt light, airy as the maiden's aura consumed her own, and the clock maiden was all she saw, she devoured her vision. She was closer and closer until there was no space inbetween anymore.

Their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss.

And it ended all too soon.

Astra blinked hazily as the maiden pulled away, slowly opening her pale eyelids to look at the clocksmith. Astra’s lips were still parted, gaping slightly as the maiden lowered herself, from where she had stood on her toes. The maiden was a lot smaller than she remembered.

And then smoke billowed in front of their faces. They were in the clocktower.

It was falling apart.

Astra took the maiden’s hand. Oh, she’d dreamt of being able to one day touch her, feel the warmth of life in the woman she’d only been able to look at from behind glass. She had always felt an undying need to be able to feel the person she hadn’t truly believed to be real at first, and this only proved that her mind was perfectly intact. But she couldn’t think about this right now. She had to get them both out before they fell to their death as the floor collapsed under them, and the clock and the roofs caved in and crushed them.

The clocksmith led them to the staircase, and tugged the silken haired woman down. She desperately tried to keep up, gathering her gowns in one hand as she stumbled, barefoot, along the iron steps. It all shook, you could hear the groans of the tower as it struggled to sustain itself. The shudders caused them both to damn near lose their footing and tumble the rest of the way down. But Astra held tight to the shaky railings, putting her arm out for the maiden before she could ever fly past her as she fell. And then they continued down the narrow, spiraling steps until they reached the bottom, where they streaked to the door.

Astra forced it open and dragged the maiden far away from the tower. She took her shoulders, nodding reassuringly to her. “Stay here,” she said, “Okay?”

The maiden nodded slightly, eyes wide as she watched Astra turn away, approaching the door, screaming desperately, “Mother—!”

There was a sound, a deafening boom as the clock finally, finally could no longer hold. It’s mechanics crumbled into the tower, and it all came crumbling down. No, no please, this can’t...

Astra had no choice but to turn around and run, lest she be caught in the devastation.

She took the maiden into her arms, shielding her from any debris that may come flying. The raven-haired girl buried her face into Astra, clutching her tightly and whimpering as the sounds of crushed machinery made desperate cries in their ears. And finally it all settled, and the girl shakily released her savior.

Astra let go of her also, turning to look at the crushed debris of the clocktower, her home, her life’s work...

...the death site of her mother.

“Mom?” Astra called as she turned away from the maiden, rushing forward. Dust billowed up, entering her throat as she called, and she flew into a coughing fit before carefully picking her way over the destroyed remains, calling out in a cracked, weak voice, “Mo-mother?”

There was only the hiss of the dead machinery.

Tears flooded Astra’s gaze, and she let out a choked sob as she gazed at the desiccation, trying to pick out her mother. She saw the crushed remains of the massive steam engine that had once powered the clock, and saw the doll still lodged into it. Astra bit her quivering lip as she dropped to her knees, her knee caps scraping against whatever the hell she was on, she couldn’t tell anymore. She reached deep into the debris and pulled out the clockwork doll with a bit of a struggle. She turned it over in her hands, seeing it only had a few large scrapes on the metal. She looked up and around, trying to find any sight of her mother. Oh, God, where was she? She had been crushed, and Astra would have to gaze upon her mother’s distorted body—

She saw something. Her mother’s tanned skin. The dainty fingers, her pallid hand, the smoothness of her forearm, now dirt-stained and protruding from underneath a crushed wall. Astra’s mouth opened in a silent scream as she stood on her wobbly, scraped knees and approached her. Her chest constricted as she gazed upon what was probably now the only recognizable part of her mother. That wall was huge. It had to have mutilated her.

Astra threw her head back and wailed, sorrowful and desperate. Her only family had been taken from her. Her passion had destroyed everything. The doll clutched to her chest with her right hand, the clocksmith reached out, still emitted pained sobs, and with her left she gently held her mother’s dead palm. It was still warm.

She felt something on her shoulder, a hand, a source of comfort. It was small and careful. “Astra, I’m so sorry,” she heard a soft voice say, and for the first time, it wasn’t muffled by a pane of glass. Astra only whimpered, gasping as more cries overcame her. The maiden, this woman that had cared for her and treated her as friend and even a second mother, wrapped her long, elegant pale arms around Astra’s neck and pressed herself against the clocksmith’s back. The warmth Astra was given helped her find the strength to release her mother’s slowly chilling hand. She clutched the arms wrapped around her, and tried to calm her panting breaths, tried to remove that endless constricting in her chest. “S-She’s gone...”

“I know.”

Astra bit her shaking lip again, and was reminded of all the time she neglected to spend with her mother, how much her mother had tolerated her less than compliant attitude, how she gifted her generously when Astra never deserved it.

“Sometimes, people must find an eternity in the short time they have.”

Mommy, did you find your eternity?