The Backwards Clock

By: Brian Boswell

I

Dusty must have something wrong with him.

I don't mean that in a really bad way or anything, it's just that, he's not like me.

When I was his age, I loved going to Mr. Potter's house. I would go there almost every day after school. He had this room with about a million clocks in it. School let out at 2:30 and I would ride my bike home, change clothes, and then ride over to Mr. Potter's.

When I got there I would go into the Clock Room and eat some cookies. I didn't have to wait too long. I would watch the hands of the clocks. They all reached the top at the exact same time. When they did you could hear every one of them ringing, clanging, buzzing, cuckooing or whatever they did.

Every day, before I would come over, he would set up dominoes in the basement. He had probably a million dominoes set up and he would always let me knock them down.

After that I would sit down in the fireplace room and he would tell me stories. He would ask me what I wanted to hear a story about and then he would tell it to me. I tried really hard to listen to what he said, but I couldn't help staring at the Backwards Clock.

Mr. Potter had a big clock that sat on the mantle of the fireplace. He had somehow made it so that it would run backwards.

He could tell time by it too!

I never could, but he used to be able to tell me what time it was by looking at that clock. I know he was using that clock too because there weren't any other clocks in that room.

Now that I'm older, though, I want to look at it again to see if I can tell the real time.

I think I'll try to get Dusty to do my paper route for me one day so I can go over to Mr. Potter's again.

You see, one night a couple of years ago Mr. Potter fell or got hurt or something. Anyway, I wasn't supposed to go over there for a couple of weeks. Mom and Dad thought it would be a good idea if I got a job. So now I deliver the paper after school.

The worst part is that I don't get to go see Mr. Potter anymore. When I get done with my route, Mom and Dad are home from work and

have dinner already made. Then it's too late to go.

Dusty never got to go with me because he was too young back then and had to stay at the sitter's all day.

The funny thing is, now he's old enough. He even has his own bike, but he never goes over there.

He did once, actually. It was about a year ago. When he got back I asked him if he liked the Clock Room. He said it was okay, but some of the clocks rang before the rest. He probably lied.

He also lied about the Backwards Clock. He said that Mr. Potter guessed the time wrong.

I don't know why Dusty lied. He never really lied before.

I know that Dusty was lying, because Mr. Potter is about the smartest man I know. He's even an inventor. Every week or so he would have a new idea. He even sent one off to a place in Washington so nobody would steal his idea. It was for an electronic screen that you could put up in your window that would kill any insects with electricity if they tried to fly through it.

I'm going to have Dusty take over my route next Saturday so that I can go over there again.

II

"Why, hello Edward. It's been a long time. Come in. I'll tell Joseph you're here."

Mrs. Potter always calls me Edward, I hate that.

I walked into the room with the fireplace and saw Mr. Potter lying in his recliner. He turned his head to look at me.

As he did, I jumped.

I jumped as if a thousand demons had suddenly appeared and grasped for my soul.

I stared at this figure lying before me. It bore some resemblance to Mr. Potter, only it was much thinner. Even by the yellow glow of the fire it seemed completely colorless.

I stared until I couldn't stand to look at him any more. My eyes began to scan the room even as he was asking me how everything was. My eyes searched the room, and they found the Backward Clock. It read 12:50. I began to figure. It would actually be 10 minutes after 11:00.

But wait! I had eaten lunch already, at Noon.

"What time is it?" I asked of Mrs. Potter. She glanced at the clock on the mantle.

"It's ten minutes to one, dear."

"Then this clock is right?"

"Yes, Joseph reset it several months ago."

"It began to be too much of a strain on me to have to figure out the time every time I needed it," Joseph said.

Just then a chime came from the next room. I entered the Clock Room.

What had once been a paradise of clangs and chimes; ticks and tocks, was now just a timepiece cemetery. The majority had been choked by dust and neglect. Out of the half-dozen or so that were still running, the one that had just sounded was the closest to the actual time.

The others disagreed bitterly.

I was only twelve years old, yet I felt the burden of ages of heartache on my shoulders. I made some excuse, then walked out the door.

I was sitting on my bike, heading down the sidewalk when Mrs. Potter's voice beckoned me to return.

"Joseph wanted me to give these to you," she said, and handed me a small box of dominoes.

Almost a month later I was walking in the house after delivering the papers. I overheard Mom and Dad talking. As I walked by, their voices hushed. Later that night they came into my room and told me the news. I think I cried.

The next evening I was in my room and Dad came in. I was sitting at my desk.

"What are you working on, Son?"

"I was just noticing that you can put the dominoes in a circle, starting with the one and having the double-six at the top, and you could make an interesting clock ..."