here is the second chapter i have posted today. it is number 4. i will post number five soon.
as i always say, keep up the great comments!
Chapter 4
Sheldon
did not get used to life. He sent
letters home, but got no response. The
best food he could wish for seemed tasteless. He could not get bored, but there were times
when he could not work. Emma gave him
anything from her sweet stock, but the sugar rush was skipped and went straight
to the dumps. He could not visit Abigail
anymore. She was too delicate to have
anyone but Carol in the same room.
Every
day Abigail grew worse. Elliot, the
young man who had brought news to the workshop, had taught Sheldon how to make
clocks. Now he spent his time tinkering
with pieces Elliot brought to him, making small figures that walked, danced,
and played games.
He
was in his room, playing chess with the most intricate figure, a clockwork toy
named Sidney, when he heard a knock on the door. It was Emma.
“Um,
Sheldon,” she said, “I bring bad news. Carol
cannot fix the clock. She cannot remove
the clock, because that would kill the patient. If she cannot remove the clock, she cannot fix
it. I’m so sorry.”
Sheldon
did not respond. It could not have
happened. Abigail could not be gone. But
he knew if Carol could not, no one could. She was the best clockmaker.
Sheldon
suddenly heard a voice in his head. It
said, is Carol truly the best clockmaker?
Has she made any figures like mine,
better than mine?
“Emma,
has Carol made any figures of clockwork?” said Sheldon.
Emma
shook her head. “No. Not any as good as
yours.”
A
bubble of hope rose inside him. Abigail
would be saved.
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The
next evening, he sat working on the most intricate clock he had ever built. He told no one of his plan, worried he would
be put off.
He
worked by candlelight. He had spent the
morning napping, for it was vital he stay awake. He had spent the afternoon praying, to keep Abigail
alive. And now he worked.
By
midnight, he had slipped out. He tiptoed
down the passageway, clutching the clock in his hand. He arrived outside Abigail’s door. A peek through a crack in the door confirmed
she was alone.
He
crept in. Abigail was on her side, her
hands under her cheek. She looked
deathly pale.
Sheldon
went to check her pulse, but remembered she had no heart. Her clock was the heartbeat.
He
gently, carefully, softly turned her on her back. The broken clock glinted in the moonlight.
He
pulled out the silent clock he had made. He wound it.
The
merrily ticking sound filled the room. It sounded cruel, cruel to the lifeless form
in the bed. He listened to the sound,
and then bent over Abigail. He grasped
the clock in her breast, and tugged.
He
wasn’t sure what he had been expecting – blood? But a skin-covered hollow, a pothole, was in
the smooth skin. A single golden
metallic cord rose from the center, right where the winding gear was. He connected the two and placed the new clock
where the old one had been in the hollow.
The
clock ticked happily. Sheldon felt a
slight breeze touch his hand. He
realized Abigail was breathing!
He
ran and fetched a chair from his room. He
set the chair near the bed and watched Abigail until morning.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That
morning, Emma raced to Carol’s rooms. “The
boy –fixed the girl’s clock! – She’s alive! – The boy – he did it – it was him
I say –”
Carol
jolted awake. She had had a lovely
dream. Abigail awoke and there was a
feast in rejoice. She told Emma so, and
Emma shook her head.
“Nah,”
she said, “that’s true! I was yelling it
to you a minute ago, that boy he’s got clockwork power I do tell you! He made
her a new clock!” Emma ran out of breath. She continued: “I snuck past her door
just now, and he was gently shaking her, and she seemed to be stirring! I need to make breakfast!”
Sheldon,
who had sensed Emma’s delighted gaze, hurried to his room. Abigail, left in the room herself, stirred. She opened her violet eyes, blinked, and found
herself in a lovely room with clockwork on the wall. A small, pudgy girl came in presently.
“I’m
glad you’re awake, Abigail,” she said. “I
am Emma. You have been out for weeks. I
fed you myself;” added Emma, looking proud, “but Carol and Sheldon fixed your
clock.”
The
blurry memory of Sheldon catching her as she fell unconscious slowly came back.
She felt slightly ill and cold then, so
Emma helped her into bed and produced a bowl of cornflakes and a glass of apple
juice. When she was finished, Emma
helped her into a blue puffy-sleeved and –skirted knee-length dress with white
pants and socks and blue shoes. She looked lovely.
Then
Emma headed to the feast her kitchen babies were preparing, while Carol sent
Elliot to bring Abigail to the kitchen.
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