In a small village during the Victorian era, there lived a young girl named Annie. Unlike other children her age who played games and sung songs, Annie was deeply fascinated with time and machinery. Her father, a humble clockmaker, had passed his love for clocks onto her. By the age of twelve, Annie could build a clock from scratch and read the most intricate timepieces, all with her keen, insightful eyes. Her small cottage was filled with the ticking of clocks, the chiming of bells, and the soft whirring of gears — all harmoniously coexisting.
Annie was known far and wide for her remarkable talent, but not just for her skill. Her genuine love for the craft and the care with which she treated each of her creations endeared her to everyone. Villagers often called her to fix their clocks, and she would do it with great delight. She enjoyed transforming broken clocks into beautiful timekeeping devices and made sure that every one of them was wound up before she returned it. This care made the clocks more loving, as each tick seemed to whisper joy.
One day, a royal messenger arrived at Annie’s door, bringing troubling news.
“Come, child,” cried the messenger. “The King is in dire need of your help!”
Clutching her small toolbox tightly, Annie followed the messenger to the magnificent palace. As they entered the grand hall, Annie’s eyes grew wide. Upon a pedestal in a bewitching glass chamber, she beheld the largest clock she had ever seen — its face covered in fascinating symbols, its hands forever pointing towards midnight.
The Princess, clothed in dazzling attire and gemstones, appeared distressed. “The Royal Clock is broken,” she explained, gesturing with her hand, “and as a result, the sun hasn’t set for three days. We can’t hold the Royal Ball for the Prince or anything else until the clock is fixed. We must do so before the next hour strikes!”
Annie felt her heart race. The clock in the palace had stopped? Through her training, she understood the implications: the sun would never set and never rise again. There would be no day, no night — just a monotonous cycle of endless time.
“Fear not, Princess,” said Annie, attempting to quell the fluttering in her heart. “I can fix it, even though I’ve never seen a clock quite like it.”
Before the Princess could respond, Annie approached the glass chamber, clutching her toolbox. Her thin fingers worked diligently; she replaced broken gears, twisted wires and cranked handles. Yet nothing changed — the clock displayed the same numbers, and its hands remained frozen.
After hours of effort, Annie allowed herself a short break. As despair threatened to overtake her, she resolved to work with renewed faith. Suddenly, an idea struck her.
“I need a key!” she exclaimed. “Have you a large key anywhere?”
The King, who had been silently observing, stepped forward holding the largest clock key Annie had ever seen. She placed it in her toolbox and examined it closely. Then she suspiciously tried it in the palace clock — a perfect fit!
“I have an idea,” she whispered excitedly.
An intelligent light flickered in her bright eyes. “Your Majesty, I want to build a clock using your key, a clock that can revive time as we know it. Do you permit me to try?”
The King, his fear now curiously mingled with hope, motioned for her to proceed.
Annie directly addressed the Princess. “You must leave the hall and attend to the guests in the ball room. This clock will require all your focus — only your maturity can make it work. I need you to allow the sun to return at your command — but when the time comes, you must return to the hall.”
“And what if I don’t return?” asked the Princess, her eyes glistening like clear jewels.
The Princess nodded, uneasily but willing to act.
For hours, Annie crafted pieces of wood and glimmering brass into a revolutionary masterpiece. The thick wooden frame was stained and lacquered, and the softly whirling internals looked as if they were dancing in the light. It was unlike any clock the Princess had ever seen.
“There’s one last piece,” said Annie, holding up a beaten wrench. “Music. This clock cannot only move time — it must make music!”
She slipped the tiny musical sheets into place, connected the final pieces, and stepped back, breathlessly observing. It was complete, a wondrous testament to her devotion and love! Striking the twelve wedges around the clock face with a slender rod, she awoke symbols to produce beautiful sounds. The clock sang lovingly, and all the palace clocks began to join in.
“Four minutes until noon!” shouted one of the palace timers.
Two minutes later, a deep rumbling filled the Grand Foyer — poor King! Although he cautiously observed Annie’s experiment, the music astounded some of his clocks, and they instantly broke their silence. At last, Annie struck the twelve, and an enchantingly intricate minute hand began its journey. From the Mists of Time, twilight clouds gathered and roamed through the sky. Stars and night appeared followed by fiery morning, and fiercely blazing noon was heralded in.
The Princess rushed in with a vexed look upon her face. “You forgot to rebuild the clock,” she hissed scornfully.
But as she stared at the large exquisite clock — the winding key, in rosy red and gold, still vibrating from its task, and the accomplished work glowing faintly in the subdued light — she chuckled, awakening the Queen and the Ladies-in-Waiting from a deep coma.
The hall was instantly filled with hours of mirth and joy. Annie and the Princess chatted endlessly; through the window opened towards eternity, the fatigue-laden moon smiled down contentedly.
Humbly, Annie returned to her cottage. She now had a new life, filled with more hours of happy, warm sympathy than a thousand years could ever give her — with exactly the same amount of clocks, of course, who possessed none the less.